Slip
by Nautical Paramour
Summary: After Hermione's parents are murdered by an unlikely foe, she stumbles on help in an even unlikelier place. Antonin Dolohov didn't expect to pick up a stray when he went to Knockturn Alley, but now he finds himself compelled to help this broken girl avenge her parents' deaths. AU after OotP. Dark multi-chapter. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey babes! This here is an Antonin x Hermione that I've been thinking about a whole lot, so I am excited to finally share it with you. It is based off the movie Leon the Professional, which you might be familiar with because of Gary Oldman's "everyone!" scene, haha. I also got inspiration from the Elliot Moss song, Slip. This will definitely be a darker story than what I usually write, but still not too bad I don't think. Still it is **definitely** a manipulative and slightly evil Order of the Phoenix, so if you don't like that, I would skip this one. Oh, I should also say in this story, Dumbledore and Sirius didn't die, but Remus did.

I think this is going to be about 10 chapters, and I plan on updating about once a week. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I will post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions!

I would love to hear what you thought of chapter one and please be on the lookout for chapter two soon!

* * *

At first she had been concerned. Then, annoyed. And finally, just plain angry. No matter how hard Hermione Granger pushed, the Order of the Phoenix _wasn't_ taking the threat the Death Eaters posed to her parents seriously. Headmaster Dumbledore told her not to worry. Mad-Eye Moody told her that they _certainly_ weren't on the Death Eaters radar.

"What would they want with a pair of tooth healers in London?" He had groused at her. It was true that the Order fought for the "light" side, and were _against_ the eradication of muggleborns. It was just that...they didn't really give much thought to the muggles that they lived nearly side by side with, worlds never crossing.

Except when their worlds _did_ cross. Death Eaters were known to go into the muggle world and kill randomly. It was worse when the muggles were parents to the Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age with OWLs to match, best friend of Harry James Potter. Harry himself had been so distraught over the death of Remus and then obsessed with following Draco Malfoy that she didn't even try to bother him with her fears about her parents. And Ron...well, they hadn't been speaking for a lot of year six.

In the end, she'd decided to go to Professor McGonagall, a woman who had introduced her to being a witch, always supported her through her schooling _and_ difficult decisions. "Oh, dear." Professor McGonagall had said over cooling tea. "Your parents will be perfectly safe, if Headmaster Dumbledore thinks so."

She'd returned to her dorm room that night and cried into her pillows. Hermione knew what was coming. She wasn't blind to the changes being made in the wizarding world. Harry and Dumbledore were planning something and she would be there for them, but...her parents were the only family she had, never having been quite welcomed into the Weasley clan like Harry had. And she wasn't just going to let them be overlooked because they were muggles!

After her cry, Hermione had gone to the library, naturally. She couldn't bare the thought of her parents being killed just because of something she did. Tortured for information on her whereabouts. Or worse, have someone use legilimancy on them, since they would be powerless to stop it.

It was the legilimancy that got her thinking. They couldn't be tortured for information if they didn't _have_ any information on her whereabouts. They would be even better off if they didn't have information about Hermione Granger at all. She started looking at memory charms. The charm was easy enough to perform and she'd even figured out a way to plant a memory in their minds as well. That they'd always wanted to go to Australia.

Australia. That should be far enough away from the wizarding world to escape the Death Eaters. And then once the war was over and they were victorious, she could go and find them, and they could be a family again. Or, if the war didn't end well...they would never have to mourn the daughter they never knew they had.

Now, though, the day had finally come that Hermione was going to have perform the spell on her parents. She couldn't put it off any longer as the days towards Bill and Fleur's wedding ticked closer. If she was going to remove her parents memories, she couldn't just keep waiting around. Each day that went by was a day closer to that nebulous time when they had to begin looking for horcruxes. She didn't know how much time she had left.

Hermione had made a big production about spending her afternoon in the library at Grimmauld Place and how she didn't want to be disturbed. Perhaps because of how volatile her moods had been that summer, no one made any move to dissuade her. Instead of heading to the library after breakfast, though, Hermione stole into the back garden of the townhouse before aparating away to the quiet street her parents lived on. The Order couldn't stop her - she was an adult after all, and she'd gotten her apparition license.

Her parents were pleased to have her pop in for an unexpected visit, so happy to have their daughter home that they didn't question her thin appearance and the dark circles under her eyes. She spent the morning cooking with her mother, before sitting and reading with her father on the couch. Then, she told them she was just going to go pack up a few things in her room.

Feeling the tears already forming in her eyes, Hermione bounded up the stairs to her room, which was still princess pink. A time capsule of a little girl who didn't know that she was a witch, and was focused on being a ballerina. How far fetched those dreams seemed now, Hermione thought, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Outside it was raining quite heavily, the sky a light grey. She sighed. It was as if the world outside was matching the mood that she felt. Hermione knew that this was an impossible decision to make, but she knew that it was also the _right_ decision for her parents. They wouldn't be happy at having their memories taken against their will, but...it was the only option she had, really.

A wave of her wand had books and photos stacking neatly, ready to be put in her little beaded bag that held an undetectable extension charm. But, she was quickly side tracked from her task, surprised by the sound of a doorbell. Hermione moved the curtain of her window, only to see Sirius Black and Bill Weasley standing at her doorstep.

Cursing her bad luck, Hermione wondered what had alerted them to the fact she wasn't under Order protection. Maybe she could actually convince them that her parents needed protection now that they were here. She scoffed, seeing how they were dressed, in long black robes, not even trying to hide the fact that they were wizards. Blood traitors though they may be, neither wizard had bothered with muggle fashion.

Deciding to head them off, Hermione walked to the top of the stairs only to be shocked when one of them blasted the front door off of it's hinges. "Avada Kedavra!" Sirius shouted, hitting her father directly with a killing curse.

Hermione shoved her hand in her mouth so that she wouldn't scream, pushing herself back, hoping that they wouldn't see her. Sirius had just killed her father! Why would he do that?

Moving into the home, Bill set the door to rights, while Sirius went in hunt of her mother. Soon a similar jet of green from the kitchen was echoing off the walls, alerting Hermione to the fact that her mother was dead as well. Were these doppelgangers? Death Eaters under polyjuice, trying to cause confusion within the Order?

"I don't like doing this." Bill said, watching as Sirius levitated the body of Hermione's mother into the kitchen. "Hermione has been so focused lately."

Sirius dropped her mother without care or concern. "You heard Dumbledore. Harry needs Hermione's full attention and worrying about her parents will distract her. This will put her more firmly on our side, if she thinks her parents were killed by Death Eaters. She will have no one left, except Harry."

Hermione slumped to the ground, careful not to make any sound while her body shook in violent sobs. She couldn't believe that the Order was conspiring against her in this way. She knew that Dumbledore manipulated people to get what he wanted - to do what was right for the _greater good_ \- but she didn't know that it stretched into murder! And she couldn't believe that Sirius and Bill would agree to go along with it. She had admired them both so much.

"Now help me cut them up a bit - we want it to look like a _real_ Death Eater attack." Sirius said, before mumbling cutting hexes and spells. Hermione thought that she was going to be sick right there, but she couldn't alert the two men to her presence here. She didn't _think_ that they would kill her, but she couldn't be positive either. She didn't want them to know that she'd stumbled onto their staging of a crime scene.

"Mosmorde!" Bill called, leaving the Dark Mark floating over her house, just before the two men apparated away.

Hermione peeked over the top of the stairs and all she could see was blood, dark red and everywhere. She felt her stomach roil in revulsion at the sight, bile swirling in her stomach, before coming up, up. Hermione lurched to her feet, just barely making it to the toilet before she threw up.

She felt so betrayed. And she'd done absolutely nothing to stop them! It had been too late for her father, but she could have at least gotten to her mother in time. Reaching a hand up, she wiped at her face, body wracked by sobs. It felt as if she was spiraling out of control. Of course, she came today to say goodbye to her parents, but she _never_ expected them to meet such a violent end.

Shaking, she knew that she couldn't just return to Grimmauld Place as she'd planned to earlier that day. She could never return to those people, who had thought so little of her parents that they could kill them without batting an eyelash. If she was forced to return there now, she just knew that she would go berserk and…

Hermione stood up from her spot on the floor. Even if she couldn't go to Grimmauld Place, she did need to get out of here now. She wasn't supposed to be here and she couldn't be waiting here when her parents lay dead in the living room. Suspicion would fall on her immediately and the Dark Mark floating above the house was sure to attract aurors sooner rather than later, especially since it was in a muggle neighborhood.

Gripping her wand tightly in her hand, she thought of a place that no one would even consider looking for her. It was only when she was standing in the alley that she realized she'd left everything - even her little beaded bag - in her bedroom. Cursing under her breath, she reached in her pocket, glad to find at least a little bit of money. Enough that she could get a room tonight. She couldn't exactly go back to her home now, but perhaps tomorrow it would be safer.

The rain was coming down quite heavily now, threatening to soak through her jumper. Wrapping her arms around her body, she ducked into the closest pub. She needed a drink and to sort out her whirling thoughts.

* * *

Antonin Dolohov was having a rather boring day. Although Dumbledore hadn't been killed, when Severus Snape removed him from the school by throwing him off the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts, the wizarding world had been sent into brief chaos, before the Dark Lord grabbed control with both hands. Prime Minister Pius Thickenesse was a puppet in every sense of the word, and soon it was possible for the Death Eaters to walk calmly wherever they pleased, leaving a trail of destruction and death. Antonin was frequently partnered with Thorfinn Rowle, a hulking brute, the only man to stand taller than him.

It had been at first, getting away with whatever he wanted, but it soon began to lose it's appeal. Things had become so _easy_ and he was just looking for something to entertain him.

He stalked down Knockturn Alley, pulling the collar of his cloak up to cover his neck from the rain. Ever since the Dark Lord had risen to power, even the weather had changed. It was constantly gloomy, dark, and windy, sending icy pelts of rain down your the back of your robes if you weren't careful. Antonin scowled at witches when they cowered away from him.

He ducked into Bottle & Glass, a pub frequented by Death Eaters, pleased to find a fire blazing in the fireplace across the room, filling the room with warmth. Just because he was a _dark_ wizard didn't mean that he didn't want to be toasty and warm. His boots stomped heavily against the floor as he walked to the bar, waving a hand at the bartender to pour his usual double firewhiskey.

Removing his heavy cloak, Antonin leaned back against the bar, surveying the room. It was unusually empty, he thought, but then again it was during the week. Still he would have expected to see some familiar faces...Travers or Rowle or Avery. It had him a bit on edge.

When he noticed the small witch in the corner booth, he felt his hackles rise unbidden. What exactly was she doing here, he wondered, so alone and vulnerable? He wondered if anyone else had realized that Undesirable Number 3 was currently sitting in the bar, knuckles white around a tumbler of firewhiskey.

He sneered. This witch. This witch had changed everything for him. He'd only seen her once before, in the Department of Mysteries, where they had dueled. Before her, he'd stuck to a code - no children. He could kill grown witches and wizards at will, but he didn't hurt children. It was a hold over from his own youth.

But then Hermione fucking Granger had engaged in a duel with him, reckless and brave and so utterly _Gryffindor_ it made him sick. When she'd silenced him, he'd been so furious, so overcome with murderous rage, he had used his curse without hesitation, hoping the kill the fiery witch. When he learned that she'd survived, he wasn't sure if he should be impressed or utterly annoyed that she'd bested him again. He was incense that a tiny little witch like Granger could make him forget his principles after just a few minutes of knowing her.

And now, here she was, sitting alone and utterly unguarded, ripe for the plucking. He was across the room in seconds, standing before her table. His shadow fell across her face, but still she didn't look up. "Well, well, well, look what we have here. A little kitten _all alone_." His voice was deep and dark, and sent a shiver up her spine.

She turned slowly, giving him a glare that he supposed was supposed to be menacing, but had him biting back a grin. "Piss off, Dolohov." She said, fiercely, clearly not in the mood for a tête–à–tête. But, it only made him curiouser, that she didn't show a hint of fear of him. He'd sent her to the hospital, likely for weeks, but she wouldn't spare him a second look. Didn't she know who he was?

"Don't think I will." He said, before sliding into the booth, across the table from her. "What are you doing here, Granger? You are practically begging for a fight." He fingered the length of his wand in his pocket, almost wishing that she would draw her own.

This time when she looked at him, she made eye contact, her warm brown eyes swirling with emotion. Clearly she was upset, but there was anger there too. Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying. "So what if I am?" She asked, chin jutting out, as proud as she could be. Only, she slurred her words, suggesting that she'd been here, drinking, for a while.

Antonin couldn't help himself this time, laughing loudly, drawing the attention of the bar to him. He drank the rest of his drink in two gulps before motioning to the barkeep to bring the bottle over. The man did as requested, looking at Antonin curiously. "Are you sure you want it? I think she's had enough." Clearly, the bartender hadn't recognized just who his very famous guest was.

Antonin smirked, before looking over at her again. "Don't worry about her. I will look after her." He promised. He wasn't sure _what_ he actually wanted to do with the foolish girl. Really, he should just take her out back in the alley and kill her. Leave her body for her precious Order of Phoenix to find her, and lament that they'd let her wander so far off on her own.

"You didn't answer my question, sweet." He said, patronizing her. "What are you doing here in Knockturn Alley?"

Her eyes immediately began to tear up, confirming his suspicions that she'd been crying before. "My parents are dead." She whispered, unwilling to break eye contact, almost _daring_ him to say something rude.

He _wanted_ to say something rude. That it was good that there were two less muggles in the world, useless as they were. He wanted to ask if they'd suffered first. But he knew it was cruel, and for some reason he _couldn't_ cause this witch any more pain. Today, at least. "How did it happen?"

She took another drink from the glass of firewhiskey, and Antonin briefly wondered if she was even old enough to drink firewhiskey. She did look older than the last time he'd seen her. Her face was thinner, more angular, showing off good cheekbones and a pert nose. Her hair seemed less wild as well, but he wondered if that was just due to her being in the rain earlier.

Really, she _must_ be old enough to drink if she was here in Knockturn Alley. After all, she must have apparated here, which meant she had her license. She was an adult in the wizarding world. Decidedly not a child anymore. He could kill her now without remorse, he thought. This time he could keep to his code, when he eventually tired of her at the end of the night.

Her voice broke his musings. "They were murdered." She whispered, making his dark eyes brows rise in surprise. It was unusual that two muggles would be murdered, and he wasn't aware of any Death Eater plans to take care of Granger's parents. That would need to be personally ordered by the Dark Lord, not just some young vigilante wanting to prove a point. If they did, they would be definitely be punished. Granger was important to the Dark Lord...or rather, her _demise_ would be important.

He tried to lie and say that was the only reason why he hadn't just killed her already, but of course, he knew that it wasn't true. He couldn't lie and pretend like he wasn't intrigued by her and the circumstances that had brought her here. She looked so sweet and innocent, but here she was, trying to act so tough.

So just what was she doing _here_ then? "Looking for some Death Eater to take down to avenge their deaths?" It would be so like a Gryffindor to rush off to some dark alley to try and take down as many Death Eaters as they could, not giving a second thought to their own personal safety in the process.

Hermione snorted, before grabbing the bottle, letting it scrape across the table before she uncorked the bottle and poured a generous portion into her empty glass. "Quite the contrary. I know exactly who killed them. I don't need to take down Death Eaters to get revenge."

Antonin stared at her, wondering what that meant. She sounded so bitter. But at the same time, she was suggesting that a Death Eater _wasn't_ responsible for the death of her parents, leading him to question just who it was. Sure, muggles were filthy, killing each other with animal savageness all the time, but he didn't think that the parents of this young woman would fall prey to such an act. She was obviously from a good middle class family, not exactly the type to be randomly murdered.

It was odd watching her face. She was so expressive, so free with her emotions, that he could clearly see the wheels churning in her brain as she tried to formulate and work through what she was feeling. "You're Antonin Dolohov." She said finally.

He wasn't able to stop the little laugh that bubbled up at her pronouncement. "Yes, I thought we'd established that already, kitten." Perhaps her parents' murder had addled her mind. Was she just now realizing exactly who she was seated across from?

"You're...ruthless. You kill without hesitation or concern about who it is. Not emotionless, but driven by rage." Hermione said quickly, as though she were psychoanalyzing him. It made him uncomfortable to have his actions and his motivations picked apart so easily by this little wisp of a girl. "Hell, you almost killed _me_ , a student from Hogwarts. To be honest I had nightmares about you for months. You were vicious."

He especially hated to be reminded of his moment where he'd let his emotions get the better of him, hated that she would remind him that he's nearly killed a child. He snarled at her. "What's your point, exactly."

She looked up at him with bright eyes. "You can help me get revenge. I want to..." She bit her lower lip, clearly thinking about what she was going to say next. "I _need_ to kill the people who killed my parents. They...deserve to suffer. My parents were innocents. The only problem is, well, I've never killed anyone before and I am sure to mess it all up if were to try it." She looked...eager, almost, excited at the prospect.

It was a complete change in her earlier demeanor, and it put Antonin on edge. She'd been so despondent and...it didn't seem _right_ for a girl like Hermione Granger to be excited at the prospect of killing anyone. "You're drunk." He said, with a sneer, wondering for the first time why he hadn't just left this conversation already, carted her off to the Dark Lord and claimed whatever reward he would give him.

"Maybe." She conceded with a giggle, which seemed so utterly _wrong_ coming from her mouth. "But I won't change my mind on this. Please, won't you just teach me how to perform the Avada Kedavra?" Even with her posh accent, she stumbled over the words of the killing curse.

Merlin, he thought, running a hand over his face. He couldn't believe that he was _actually_ considering this.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow! Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! This really got a lot better response than I was expecting, especially because I know the plot is a little bit unusual. So, thank you all so much for giving this a shot! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions. Also, if you enjoy Antonin x Hermione stories, Thrifty-Crimson is reposting Aphotic Sage, so go check that out too!

Please let me know what you thought of chapter two, and be on the lookout for chapter three soon!

* * *

At first, when Hermione's evening of wallowing in her drunkenness had been disturbed by Antonin Dolohov, she'd been annoyed. It was surprising not to feel even a tingle of fear when facing the man who nearly killed her the year before. No, she just wanted him to leave her alone, quit questioning her, and let her continue to throw herself a pity party.

Since she ordered her first firewhiskey at Bottle & Glass - a pub she had absolutely _no business_ ever setting foot in - she'd been consumed by sadness and grief, coloring her world in a dark grey. For hours, no one had bothered her in her little booth, and she still hadn't processed what had happened at her parents house.

But then _he'd_ come into the bar, walking right up to her table, giving her mocking smiles and calling her kitten. For the first time that day, she'd actually started to feel _angry_. Angry at him, for invading her personal space and confusing her.

When they weren't in the middle of a duel to the death, he was really quite handsome, her traitorous mind thought. He'd grown a beard, at some point, and she thought his nose was perhaps a bit too large for his face, but perfectly straight. She was surprised, she would have thought he would have had it broken at least once in his life, infuriating as he was. His hair had grown a bit longer, wavy strands of dark brown that were wet from the downpour of rain. He'd absentmindedly pushed it out of his face, clearly in annoyance.

But that had given her a clear view of his eyes, dark and glittering with amusement at finding a little orphaned Gryffindor, crying into her cups. What kind of heartless man would tease her when she was already clearly so upset? Except, then she remembered who she was dealing with. He was Antonin _bloody_ Dolohov.

When he'd asked if she wanted to avenge her parents, she nearly scoffed. But the question gave her pause. Of course she wanted to avenge her parents. She wanted to watch the light leave Bill Weasley's and Sirius Black's eyes! If they were capable of doing this to her parents, two muggles who had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the war, all with the intention of getting her more completely devoted to Harry - as if she hadn't already given up _enough_ of her life to that boy! - and that they would justify it by saying Dumbledore _told_ them to, then she could almost justify their deaths.

The only problem was she'd never even attempted the killing curse before. She couldn't exactly just bust into Grimmauld Place, try to kill them and fail. Who knew what they would do to her if that happened. They'd probably just kill her, too. After all, it seemed pretty clear that anyone who got in the way of Harry acting as the chosen one was easily destroyed.

She wondered if it was some kind of fate that of all the Death Eaters to walk through the door, it was Antonin Dolohov who'd taken the seat across from hers. He was a man so practiced in killing, known for his prowess, that surely he'd be able to teach her what to do.

At first, he'd accused her of being drunk, but he hadn't said no either. So she whittled away at his disbelief and surprise, until he finally started to understand that she was _serious_ about it. It was about the same time that Hermione realized that she was serious too.

But, planning a double murder in public wasn't the smartest thing in the world. Even in Knockturn Alley, in a dingy pub, frequented by Death Eaters. Even when Voldemort was in control of the Ministry and letting the Death Eaters wreak havoc on the Wizarding World. Especially not when you were known mudblood, Hermione Granger.

Dolohov lead her out of the pub and into the back alley, wrapping his cloak around him tightly, to protect from the rain that was still pelting down. He frowned when he saw that she didn't have a cloak or anything with her for that matter. "Where is your cloak?" He asked her, eyes suspicious.

Hermione frowned, hating the way that the tears stung her eyes and the way that she was forced to rely on Antonin _Dolohov_ for assistance. "I just left...I didn't take anything." She said quietly, looking up at him with a forlorn expression, hoping to make his frozen heart melt just a bit, make him feel just a bit badly for her. "Please, I don't have anywhere to go."

He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with what she was asking him. But then, she couldn't really believe she was asking to stay with him, either. What would stop him, known Death Eater, from killing her immediately? She really wanted to go home with him, stay with him? For some reason, though, she _trusted_ him. In the two hours they were at the pub, she'd gone from being frightened of him to confident that he wouldn't harm a hair on her head. After all, he would have done so already if he wanted to.

No, Hermione thought, he wouldn't kill her because he was too intrigued by her. She was a delightful puzzle for him to solve, a Gryffindor goody two-shoes who suddenly decided that she fancied a bit of murder. She was sure he was curious to see how far he would go, and if she would _actually_ be able to kill someone.

And, she thought, looking at his face, he did feel a little bit sorry for her. After a long internal war, he offered her his arm. "Fine." He said, with an air of resigned misery, that he was actually going to help her.

Hermione stared at his offered arm for a while, knowing that this was the _last_ possible moment that she could back out. She could return to Grimmauld Place and pretend like she didn't know what had happened to her parents, come up with some way to explain her absence. Or, she could go with this man, and get her revenge.

She grabbed his hand, surprised to feel some comfort when his large hand embraced her smaller one. It was so much larger than her own, and she was surprised to find it calloused and warm. She wasn't sure what she was expecting...perhaps pampered and smooth like some pureblood princeling.

The squeezing feel of apparition had her reeling and when they arrived _wherever_ it was that he side-alonged her to, her mind was swirling with alcohol. She _was_ drunk. The room was spinning and she shut her eyes tightly, just praying that she wouldn't vomit all over his shoes. His hands rested on her shoulder, perhaps halting her swaying body, before guiding her to what she believed was a couch. "I'll just get you some water." He murmured.

By the time he'd returned, glass with lukewarm tap water in hand, Hermione had opened her eyes and was cautiously looking around the room. If you would have asked her where Antonin Dolohov lived, this would not be the place she described.

It was clearly a flat, with tiny windows facing the street below, with no curtains to block the street light. The walls were a dull, off white plaster, that was crumbling in a few areas of the room, exposing the cheap wooden lathe underneath. It was completely spartan in the way of furniture, just a large brown sofa that she was currently sitting on, a coffee table in front of it. The kitchen had a small table with only one chair. There were two doors off the main room - clearly for a bedroom and bathroom. She imagined those would be just as sparse as the main room, if she looked.

Antonin sat next to her on the couch, leaving plenty of space between them, before leaning over to take off his heavy brown boots. Hermione leaned forward to pick up the glass from the table, taking a sip so that she wouldn't be tempted to talk.

The silence seemed to stretch on between them eternal, until finally Hermione became so uncomfortable that she _had_ to break it. "Don't you have any wine? Or firewhiskey?" She asked, thinking that it had been much easier to talk to him when she had some Ogden's in hand.

He smiled at that - a genuine smile - before nodding. "I think you've had enough to drink tonight, kitten." Hermione decided that she rather liked the way that he looked when he was smiling. He didn't seem so serious and mean. When she was sitting here on the couch with him, it made her realize just how much larger than her he was. It was comforting, in an odd way. Normally, she would have felt intimidated by their size difference.

Hermione nodded, knowing that it was true. She was likely to have a splitting headache the next morning as it was, she didn't need to add another alcohol into the mix. Besides, she _really_ shouldn't be letting her guard down around him.

"Are you going to tell me who we are meant to kill?" He asked her, thinking that he really should have figured this out before agreeing to bring her back to his flat.

Hermione bit her lower lip, worried that if she told him what had happened, if it would make everything seem too _real_. She shook her head. It was real, so it was better to just face the facts. "Sirius Black and...Bill Weasley."

He swore in what she assumed was Russian, based on his slight accent, looking away from her. His face was nearly unreadable to her, but she knew that he was upset. She wondered why. Shouldn't he be happy that she was willing to take out two Order members, who she was sure were a thorn in the side of the Death Eaters?

That thought made her pause. She didn't want to do _anything_ that would help the Death Eaters, but then again, she wasn't doing it for them. She was doing it to get revenge. They needed to die. They'd killed her parents. Internally, Hermione wondered if this childish eye for an eye, life for a life, mentality was going to bite her in the arse later.

"Kitten, what happened?" He asked her finally, clearly confused about why she would turn on her comrades.

"I was going to obliviate my parents." Hermione said, quietly, unable to meet his eyes.

He looked at her, eyes sweeping over her shape, while she tucked her legs up under her body and wrapped her arms across her chest. "Smart." He said, quietly, making Hermione feel a rush of relief, to know that she had been trying to make the _right_ decision. Only, that didn't matter anymore.

"I lied and told the Order I was going to be studying, but really I went home for the day. I was upstairs in my room when Sirius and Bill showed up." She said, tears brimming in her eyes, making the room seem fuzzy. "I thought they'd come to get me, but then, they blasted the door down and Avada'd my father."

She wiped away one of the tears that had broken free from her eyelashes, hating that the tears just wouldn't stop coming. "They did the same to my mother, but they didn't realize I was there, hiding upstairs. They cut my parents up, saying they wanted it to look like a _real Death Eater attack_ , before casting the Dark Mark and leaving."

Antonin whistled low under her breath. "The Order conjuring the Dark Mark? I am sure the Dark Lord would be so intrigued to hear that." He said honestly, before looking back at the broken girl sharing the couch with him. "Why would they want it to look like a Death Eater attack?"

"They...they wanted to make sure that I was fully devoted to Harry." Hermione said, obviously bitter about the situation. "That if I was worrying about what happened to my parents, I might not be able to help him." She shook her head, using the heel of her hand to rid her face of any lingering tears, her nose stuffy. Turning to look at him, he could see the fire returning to her eyes again. "I've given everything to Harry since we became friends in my first year. I can't believe that they would even think about suggesting that I haven't supported him _fully_."

He nodded, knowing how she felt. He could even understand her need for revenge, but now was not the time to discuss it, when she was drunk and emotional. Antonin was a bit worried that this tiny witch might have have an accidental magic outburst if he kept egging her on with difficult questions. They could begin planning in the morning.

As for right now, she was probably soaked to the bone from the rain, and she looked like she could use a good night's rest. He stood from the couch and offered her a hand. "Come, let's get you to bed."

Hermione stared at his hand in disbelief. "Are you honestly trying to _fuck_ me after what I've just told you?" She viciously accused him, making him pull back his hand in surprise.

"No, I just meant...you look tired kitten. You can sleep in my bed, and I will sleep out here on the couch." He said, his voice a low rumble, not really in the mood for _another_ argument with this little witch.

She seemed to assess his intentions, trying to read his face, for a moment, before she hauled herself up from the couch, off kilter from the alcohol. She stumbled, only to be caught in Antonin's strong arms. Hermione couldn't resist burying her nose against his chest. He smelled so good, fresh, spicy and masculine. It made her think of a cowboy in the wild west days of old.

With his arm around her shoulder, he helped her make the short walk to his bedroom. He sat her down on the edge of the bed, before digging through his dresser to find her something to wear. She couldn't very well go to sleep wearing her wet sweatshirt. He finally found a white undershirt, tossing it to her.

Antonin was so shocked when she just pulled her jumper over her head, seemingly not caring that she was exposing her frame to him. When she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, he groaned, before turning away, knowing that it would be a violation of her privacy to watch. If she hadn't drunk quite so much firewhiskey, he was sure she would be spitting mad at him.

He heard the zip of her jeans, and counted to fifteen before turning back around. She was covered up in the shirt, though he could easily see the shape of her breasts through the thin fabric. He was red blooded enough to admit that he wished he could see her bare to him. She'd painted quite an attractive picture in just her bra. Her legs looked endless, while she shifted the sheets to get under them.

The moment her head hit the pillow, her eyes were already fluttering shut. "Goodnight Dolohov." She whispered. He felt a smile forming on his face and he wondered what she would be thinking in the morning. He wondered what _he_ would be thinking in the morning.

He couldn't believe that he'd taken Hermione Mudblood Granger to his flat and that she'd asked him to show her how to kill someone. It was insane. He wondered if perhaps her presence her was some kind of imagination that his mind conjured up after spending entirely too much time in the presence of the dementors at Azkaban prison. He felt as though he was losing his mind.

Grabbing the second pillow from his bed, he moved to the couch in his living room, settling down on it, trying to get some sleep while his mind whirred in distress. Taking the girl into his home was a great personal risk to himself, especially because he didn't turn her over immediately. And, he hated to admit it, but he was worried about what would happen to her once Black and Weasley were killed.

It wasn't as if he could just let her go. To do so would almost be certain suicide the moment the Dark Lord slithered into his brain, violating every private thought and feeling. As it stood, he was already facing several bouts of torture from his actions.

He shifted on the couch, folding the pillow over, trying to find a comfortable way to lay down, but his mind kept wandering to all the depraved things his brethren would do to her. Not only was she a mudblood, and the enemy, but she was attractive as well. He'd seen the kind of savagery that Travers and McNair were capable of, and he didn't want to imagine Hermione being subjected to their depravity. However, every time that he closed his eyes, he could hear her screams echoing in his ears.

Blinking rapidly in the darkness, he realized that he wasn't imagining the tiny sobs that the witch was making. Clearly, she was crying in her sleep. Antonin sighed. Maybe it would kinder to just kill the witch now. She had no family left if her parents had been murdered, and clearly the betrayal at the hands of the Order had cut her deep. She'd run to bloody Knockturn Alley, after all, instead of returning to her friends.

She was all alone in the world.

He stood from the couch, taking the pillow in his hands. It would be over quickly, he reasoned with himself. He would just hold the pillow down over her face, smothering her slowly. The witch was already asleep, so she wouldn't feel any pain or fear. Just a few moments and she would be gone, leaving all of her pain behind on the Earth.

It _would_ be kinder, Antonin resolved, thinking of all the years of agony that he would save her from, even though the thought of extinguishing her spark made him uncomfortable. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, and he couldn't think of another time he'd been so nervous to kill someone. Not since he killed his first man at age sixteen, he thought absentmindedly. How many had come after that? What was one more body at his feet?

His hand hesitated only for a moment at the door knob, before he turned it and strode purposefully into the room. Antonin's eyes quickly adjusted to the light, seeing the sleeping witch fitfully moving on his bed. One of her lean legs had escaped the cover, and she held onto her pillow for dear life.

He deflated, watching her whimper in her sleep, tear tracks down her cheeks. It was impossible for him not to empathize with her. It felt like just yesterday when he'd found his own mother murdered, even though it had been years. He was just a child then.

He crossed the room, sitting next to her on the bed. He felt something in his heart move when she unconsciously inched closer to him, closer to the warmth that he provided. Antonin felt his resolve melting quickly. She was so little and in that moment he knew that he would move mountains to make her feel better.

Hesitantly, he placed his large hand on her back, wincing when it caused her to stir. He felt clumsy and awkward; his hands had only been used to cause death and destruction, and he wasn't used to the gentle action. "Shh, Hermione. It will be alright. I will protect you." He whispered, knowing that the words were true.

His hands moved her wild hair away from her face, running through curly stands and marveling at how soft it was. He rubbed her back in circular motions, hoping that his touch would bring her some comfort, even if she didn't know that he was there, helping her. Even if she raged at him in the morning for involving her with him.

To his absolute shock, her face, previously contorted in pain and hurt, slowly relaxed, and her whimpers calmed to nothing. He knew that he was fucked.

Standing from the bed, now that Hermione was calm, Antonin returned to the couch, hoping to get a little bit of sleep before whatever fallout happened tomorrow. Not to mention that he had two murders to plan.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! It really means so much to me, especially because I know this is so different from what I usually write. If you are looking for more Antomione, I just posted the last chapter (epilogue pending) of another Antomione story called Fille du Roi, so you can check it out. Or, you can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter three and be on the lookout for chapter four soon!

* * *

Before Hermione could even open her eyes, her head was spinning. She was laying on a slightly uncomfortable bed, but it felt as if she were on a ship, listlessly rocking without a rhyme or reason. Groaning, she tried to open her eyes, only to find them feeling scratchy and swollen, as if she'd been crying all night.

But then she remembered, she _had_ been crying all night.

Looking up at the plain white ceiling, she tried to remember _exactly_ what had happened the day before, because this was clearly not the shabby townhouse known as Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

It came back in flashes. She'd gone to deal with her parents. They'd been murdered...by the Order. She'd gone to Knockturn Alley and drank more than she thought was possible, and ran into Antonin Dolohov. Hermione groaned, running a hand over her face. She was in Dolohov's flat. She'd asked him to help her kill two people. And he'd agreed.

She blushed. She'd accused him of wanting to fuck her.

The room was spinning more and more, and suddenly, Hermione was aware that she was going to be sick. Hopping up from the bed, she shuffled from the room, not caring that she was just wearing a shirt, and stumbled into the bathroom, cursing when she hit her hip on the edge of the sink hard enough to bruise.

Dropping to her knees, Hermione lifted the toilet lid, dry heaves turning into full on vomitting. Tears sprung to her eyes again, and she felt like she was dying, as she heaved again and _again_. Hermione was just glad that she hadn't had anything to eat the day before, so everything that came back up was pure liquid.

She was alerted to another presence in the room, when comforting fingers raked through her wild hair, pulling it back and whispering a charm to hold it in a tight coil on the top of her head, keeping it out of her face. His hand rubbed calming circles up and down her back, which honestly made Hermione feel much better than she was expecting. Soothing words that it would be alright met her ears.

When it seemed like she was finally done, Hermione lifted her sweaty face from her arms, flushing the toilet. Merlin, she couldn't think of a single time that she was more embarrassed. Dolohov stood from his spot behind her, before he started digging though his cabinent. He swore under his breath. "Sorry, I am out of hangover cure, but I've got this for your head ache."

Hermione shakily stood from the ground, taking the vial hesitantly. One look into his dark eyes made her realize that he was _actually_ concerned about her. She took the offered vial, rationalizing that Dolohov's style was decidely _not_ to poison her. He was vindicite enough that if he was going to try to kill her, he'd take his time with it. She drank the green liquid greedily, glad that it was spearmint flavored.

"Why don't you clean yourself up. When you are done, I will have some toast waiting for you in the kitchen." He offered, before leaving her alone in the bathroom.

Hermione splashed some water on her face, before running her hands through her hair, releasing it from the charm. Unfortunately, there was nothing to do for it. She looked longingly at the shower, but couldn't bare the thought of that when she had no fresh clothes to change into. Slipping out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, she changed back into her clothes from the day before, leaving his shirt neatly folded on the bed.

She groaned. She couldn't believe that she'd gone home with _Dolohov_. He'd nearly killed her once before and she'd been utterly frightened of him. But now...in less than twelve hours, she felt completely different about him. He made her feel _safe._

The day before, her whole world had been flipped upside down, and she felt like she couldn't trust anyone, well and truly alone. But then Dolohov had swept in. He'd been truly kind to her, and he certainly didn't seem scary anymore. He'd been the only one to help her when she really needed it, not wanting to think about what would have happened if she'd stayed at the pub.

Plus, he'd promised to help her learn the Avada Kedavra. Or at least, she thought that he had. Really, once they'd arrived at his flat, things got a little bit fuzzy.

Looking around the flat, she was really saddened. There was almost nothing personal here. Nothing to reveal the kind of person the resided here. Really, that just made her sad. Surely there was more to Antonin Dolohov than being a Death Eater?

She walked into the kitchen and sat in the chair that Antonin had conjured. He slid a piece of dry toast in front of her, as well as a glass of lukewarm water. Hermione took the glass and took big gulps of the water, feeling parched. "Easy, take little sips until you are sure you won't be sick again." Antonin scolded, making her cheeks blush a bright red.

"Speaking from experience?" She accused, only to wince at her tone. Why was she being so rude to him when he'd only been helpful to her? She took a bite of toast to keep her mouth occupied. Her stomach protested when she swallowed, only to settle moments later.

He smirked, knowing that she was living through the hangover of her young life. "Yes." He said firmly, having seen the wrong end of a firewhiskey bottle several times in his life. "Once you finish the toast I will run down to the pub and get you a proper breakfast."

Hermione was going to protest that she couldn't _possibly_ eat anything, until her stomach began growling, insisting that she really would like some food. Dolohov tried to hide his laugh, but wasn't very successful. He picked up his cloak from the coat hook. "I'll just go now, I'm starved myself."

The curly-haired witch couldn't deny that she was surprised that Dolohov would just leave her alone in his flat, but then again he didn't have anything here that she could really take. Briefly, she thought about just leaving - it would be simple to apparate away - but then she was reminded that she didn't have anywhere else to go.

Dolohov, meanwhile, made his way down to the pub on the corner of his block. He ordered two full English breakfasts, drawing a raised eyebrow from the proprieter. Antonin was a usual at the pub, stopping in for food quite frequently - never finding the time to go grocery shopping himself - whenever he was at his flat and not out on business. But he never ordered enough food for two people. "You have someone staying with you?" The nosy man asked.

Antonin sneered back at the man, annoyed that he would try to get in his business. "I _do_ bring the occassional witch home for a shag." He said, hoping that his oversharing would disgust the man enough to leave him alone. To Antonin's immense joy, it worked, sending the man into the kitchen to get the order out as quickly as possible.

He didn't have to wait long until the food was presented to him, along with a disdainful glare. He paid before laughing. "Look, I'm just trying to be a gentleman." He said with a shrug of his shoulders, before leaving the pub. If Hermione knew what had just transpired, he was sure she'd be irate at him for suggesting that anything untoward was happening between them.

In the light of the day, he was even less sure of why he was helping the little witch, but he knew that there was no changing his mind about it. He wanted to protect her, care for her. He was sure it had something to do with the fierce way she'd stood up for herself the night before.

Hermione was pleased by the offer of breakfast, happily digging into the over medium eggs and bangers. It was a little bit funny to see the normally prim witch drop her manners, as hungry as she was. He briefly wondered when the last time she ate was.

But before long, breakfast was over, and there was no putting off their conversation any longer. They needed to talk about what was going to happen. "Erm, Dolohov." She said, hesitantly. "The Order will have noticed that I'm gone by now, so...there is no going back for me any more. I need to know. Are you going to help me?"

Her stared at her serious face for a moment. What did she imagine was going to happen? "What do you think I've been doing so far, kitten?" He watched her nose scrunch in frustration when he called her his nickname. "But, I make no promises after you've...fulfilled your plans." He couldn't just keep her around once she'd killed the two people who he'd asked to help her kill. He would maybe give her a head start, but then, it would be back to basics.

Hermione sucked in an excited breath. "So you'll help me, then? You'll teach me how to perform the Killing Curse?" Seeing his cautious nod, Hermione sighed. "I don't have any money to pay you right now, but I can get you some later."

"Pay me? Why would you do that?" He groused.

"I thought that you were...kind of like a hit wizard?" Hermione said cautiously. "Don't you...kill people for money? You-know-who gives you a reward?"

Dolohov shook his head. Taking money from her seemed vulgar in some way. "You won't pay me." He said firmly. "Consider this...pro bono." He knew that if he claimed to have killed Sirius Black and Bill Weasley, the Dark Lord would still be pleased enough that he might even get a reward...even if he'd been harboring a mudblood.

"I think we should go back to my house. I have some things there that I well...I need. I can't just go on wearing your clothing, and I would feel better if I had them." She said, looking down at her plate.

Antonin wanted to groan. It would be a huge risk to go back to the house, especially since he was a known Death Eater. But then, it was in a muggle area so if they came across any muggle police, he could just have Hermione obliviate them. "You'll have to apparate me." He said, with a wince. It had been a long time since he'd been the passanger of a side-along apparition and he hoped Granger had practiced enough not to splinch him.

Hermione nodded, before offering him her arm. He tensed immediately, anticipating what was sure to be an uncomfortable situation. Hermione huffed, annoyed that he didn't have as much faith in her as she did in him. "Relax." Her voice was soothing, and he found his muscles unbunching, relieved of tension, like she'd just put a calming charm on him.

With a pop, they landed in a bedroom that was clearly meant for a little girl, considering the small size of the bed. If Antonin tried to sleep in it, his legs were sure to fall off the end. Having never been into a muggle home before, he couldn't deny that he was curious, and walked out into the hall while Hermione shuffled around the pink bedroom, putting things into a bag. _Undetectable extension charm_. He thought, with a smile. Hermione was smart, that was a certainty.

The floor was all carpeted and he could tell that he was on a second floor. Across the hall was another bedroom, likely for guests, based on the thin layer of dust that had accumulated in the room. It was probably only cleaned in preparation of a visitor. A bathroom was the next room down the hall, and it was _much_ nicer than the bathroom he had.

Really, the whole house was much nicer than he expected. He supposed he was right when pegging Hermione as an upper middle class girl. He wondered what the life of an upper middle class muggle girl was like. What would Hermione's life be like if she hadn't been born a witch?

At the end of the hall, there was a set of stairs. Antonin was about to walk down the stairs when he peeked over the edge. There was blood everywhere, dried and nearly black. In just a few hours, too, a smell had already began to form. He was surprised that no one had found the bodies yet. The Dark Mark no longer lingered over the home, so he wondered why they hadn't been discovered.

Before he could make any more movements down the stairs, though, he was alerted to the sound of two pops. It was unmistakeably, the noise of apparition, he thought, his hand immediately tightening around his wand. He hissed to Hermione that they had company.

* * *

When Bill and Sirius had left the Grangers' home the day before, they decided to set up a charm to determine when someone re-entered the house. Bill had performed the ward himself, but they had been getting antsy when nothing had happened nearly 24 hours later.

Especially when Hermione appeared to be missing. They'd decided not to tell Harry and Ron that she was missing, when they didn't know where she was or why she'd left. It had made all of the Order members a little bit nervous, but Bill and Sirius were confident that Hermione couldn't possibly know what had happened.

Sirius had suggested that perhaps she had a secret boyfriend and lost track of time. That had made Bill smirk. "Ron will be so disappointed if that's the case. He can't stop making eyes at her, it's a bit obnoxious."

The charm finally went, though, and Bill and Sirius didn't hesitate to aparate over to the Grangers' home. The bodies were still where they had left them in the living room, and they'd begun to smell. Still, they could hear definite movement in the second floor and quiet voices.

Bill's mind was already whirling with ways to explain to Hermione that her parents had been killed. They would wrap her up and get her back to Grimmauld Place, before breaking the news to her. It would be better if she didn't have to see the bodies.

He wasn't expecting Antonin Dolohov to come down the stairs, moving slowly. The man was immense, blocking the hallway. Bill had always been one of the tallest guys in the room, but he was sure that Dolohov would tower over him. He was well aware of the man, who had at one time been a promising curse breaker at Gringotts, until he turned to a life of murder. The goblins still liked to complain that he'd gotten away after he learned all their secrets.

Sirius shot off the first hex, only to have it blocked by Dolohov, sending it ricochetting around the room, breaking something that Bill couldn't see. He was too busy blocking the jinx that Dolohov had sent his way, only to get clipped in the arm. He hissed, before seeing the telltale bushy hair of Hermione Granger making her way down the stairs.

"Hermione! Get back!" Bill called out. "Dolohov has killed your parents. Get back to Grimmauld Place." In hindsight, they should have been surprised at the way Dolohov _smiled_ and stepped aside for Hermione to come down the stairs. "Merlin, Hermione, you look terrible." Bill said before he could think better of it.

But she _did_ look terrible, like she'd gotten very poor sleep at least. Her eyes were red and puffy like she'd been crying and Bill didn't remember her looking quite so thin. Her cheeks were hollowed and her cheekbones prominent. Clearly that hadn't happened overnight...just how long had she be in some state of distress?

The most disturbing thing was the sneer on her face, which would look more at home on the face of a Malfoy than the loveable, annoyingly swotty bookworm that they lived with at Grimmauld Place. "How dare you?" Her voice was deadly serious, and confused both the men.

She sent a jinx at Bill's feet which he was _not_ prepared for in the least. It sent him sprawling on his arse, and it made Dolohov laugh. "How dare you blame this on Dolohov, when _you_ are the ones that _murdered_ my parents?"

"Whatever he's told you, Hermione, is wrong." Sirius said, with his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. He spoke softly, trying to convince the fierce witch that he was telling the truth.

Unfortunately, Hermione didn't believe it for two seconds, and was sending a curse at Sirius as well. He barely had time to set up a shield to block himself from what was certain to be particularily nasty. They knew that Hermione was a bit vindictive and stubborn, but they never expected her to be so vicious.

"Don't lie to me!" She screached, hair crackling around her with excess magic. Her raised wand was still poised on Sirius Black, not focused on Bill, who was still struggling to regain his footing. "I saw you yesterday. I know that the pair of you killed my parents, and I know why you did it, too!"

"Hermione, I know this must come as a big shock to you, but...we didn't." Sirius said, weakly. Perhaps he knew that she wasn't going to accept his lies, or maybe he realized that there was no way out of them either.

"How idiotic do you have to be that you didn't even cast a homenium revelio?" Disgust was palpable in her voice. "Oh yeah, I learned that when I was working my butt off to help Harry." She said, bitterly. The idea that she wouldn't work hard enough for Harry was probably what stung the most.

While she was tearing into Sirius, Bill had regained his footing and attempted to shoot a spell at her, only to have it deflected by Antonin, an absolutely murderous look in his dark eyes for daring to send a spell at the girl.

That caught Hermione's attention though. "I want you to know a little bit of the pain that I felt, knowing that people I trusted, people I thought were my friends, had betrayed me like this." With her wand raised, face scrunched in effort, Hermione attempted to cast the crucio curse. It was weak, and probably stung Bill a bit where it hit him, but it wasn't nearly powerful enough.

Antonin saw what Hermione meant about messing up the Killing Curse if she attempted it without instruction. Sure, she had plenty of the raw rage and anger to produce a weak version of the spell, but she was still too sweet. She didn't _want_ it enough. She couldn't channel her hurt and sadness into intent. Still, he could already sense that she would be an excellent student.

He could kill the two men standing in the Grangers' living room easily enough right now, but he wanted Hermione to have this little bit of closure, and there was no way she was going to defeat them in a duel today. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he watched as she came back to herself. "Do you have what you needed?" He asked gently.

She took a deep breath, before nodding to him, not trusting herself to speak. She never took her eyes off of the two men, now that she knew they had no qualms about hexing _her_ too. Antonin gripped her hand tightly in his, before apparating them away from the Grangers', leaving Sirius and Bill alone with their thoughts.

"Fuck!" Sirius shouted when they popped out of sight. "We should have put up anti-apparition wards." In hindsight, really it would have been a good idea.

"I don't know what good that would have done." Bill said quietly, dread pooling in his belly. "Hermione seemed comfortable with Dolohov. You don't think...you said perhaps she was seeing someone?" The idea that Hermione would ever be in a relationship with a Death Eater seemed preposterous, but still, he couldn't be sure. What other explanation could there be for the interactions that they'd witnessed.

Sirius shook his head. "I don't _think_ so. But...fuck, I can't believe that Hermione knows. We are royally screwed. If Harry finds out what I've done, he'll be pissed."

"At least now we have a way to explain Hermione's absence." Bill said thoughtfully. "It should at least calm everyone down for a while. We can say that Hermione spent the day with her parents, but Dolohov killed her parents and kidnapped her." Anything but to admit that they fucked up.

The older man nodded, rubbing his chin. "That's brilliant. Then, if she shows up and tries to implicate us, we can just claim that she's under imperious, until we can get her alone to obliviate her and plant a false memory."

"And if...what if there _was_ something going on between her and Dolohov? Other people might now." Bill was trying to hedge their plan, thinking that they had been a bit too sloppy with their plan to kill the Grangers. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes a second time.

Sirius grinned. "The more I think on it, the more far-fetched it seems. Really, you think an old bigot like Dolohov, someone in you-know-who's inner circle, would be having a relationship with a muggleborn?"

"I suppose you are right." Bill conceded, though it still didn't explain _what_ she was doing with him. "Though we should probably watch our backs...if Hermione is with Dolohov, he is a formidable foe. Now, I suppose we should go tell the Order the news." The two men performed the charm again to alert them if anyone reentered the house, hoping that Hermione would be foolish enough to come back. Then, the apparated back to Grimmauld Place, masks of despair on their faces.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! 100 reviews already - I am blown away! I just finished another Antonin x Hermione story earlier this week, so if you are interested, you should definitely check it out! It's called Fille du Roi, and it's loosely a colonial AU. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter four and be on the lookout for chapter five soon! And Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers 3

* * *

When they returned to Antonin's flat after their confrontation with Weasley and Black at her childhood home, Hermione went directly into _his_ bedroom, shutting the door behind her. He'd felt a bit annoyed that she was walking around his flat as though she owned the place, but at the same time, he knew she was going through a tidal wave of emotions.

He'd tried to spare her the sight of her parents' bodies, but there was no denying that she'd seen them, lying dead in the living room. It must be a whole other layer of emotion to confront their murderers and know that you weren't entirely up to snuff. _Yet_ , he reminded himself.

Antonin couldn't deny that Granger had impressed him. Her form had improved since he dueled with her in the Department of Mysteries, no longer so concerned with playing by the rule books. Perhaps he had already taught her that in real life people don't wait for the other to bow, trade volleys one to one.

He'd gotten a letter from Thorfinn while she was still shut in, telling him that the Dark Lord had business with a coven of vampires in Romania. Antonin didn't want to go, knowing that the vampires always made him feel a bit uncomfortable, but he was also the most in tune with the social customs of the region, having spent most of his childhood in snowy Russia.

Not that they were the same culture _at all_ , Antonin thought, bitterly, though he wasn't about the argue with the Dark Lord about it. Really, he expected better of the man. Hadn't he lived in Albania after all?

He slipped into the shower so he could meet Thorfinn that afternoon, only to realize once he got out of the steamy room that Hermione was in his room and his clothes were also in his room. With a snarl, he cursed the girl for making him walk on egg shells in his own apartment. Towel tightly wrapped around his hips, he pushed into the room, glaring at Hermione, practically daring her to argue with him about it.

She was curled up in the bed, with a well read copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ in her lap. Her eyes were red again, which was odd considering that he hadn't heard her crying at all. Perhaps she'd cast a silencing spell. It was probably smart of her, considering hearing her cry made Antonin go a bit mental. It made him want to help her.

Her eyes lingered on his form, and knowing that he was a well built man, he smirked at her. "See something you like, kitten?" He asked, before turning to his dresser drawer and began getting dressed again, not caring when he dropped his towel, revealing his arse to her.

" _Must_ you be so crude, Dolohov?" She snarled back at him. It was good, he decided. He was glad that she hadn't lost any of her fire now that she'd suffered such a huge loss. Or, perhaps it was her fire that was the only thing sustaining her.

"I have to leave for a few days." He told her casually, smirking at her gasp. "Business for the Dark Lord is taking me out of country." Once he was dressed again in trousers and a shirt, he turned around to face her. "Will you be okay here?"

Hermione looked down at her book, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. The sight of that made Antonin want to groan, and he wondered when such a simple and unconscious action could make him react in such a way. "I suppose. What if…"

Antonin was taken aback. Was the girl actually _worried_ for him? "Don't worry, it shouldn't take me more than a week. I've added you to the wards, so you can apparate in and out at will." He assured her, wanting it to be clear that she could leave whenever she wanted. It wasn't as if he would hold her against her will. "Sorry, I don't have much in the way of food." He ran his hand over the back of his neck, a bit sheepish at that.

She shook her head. "It's alright. I have some money. I wouldn't expect you to... _provide_ for me." She insisted, finding it odd that he felt _any_ sort of responsibility over her wellbeing.

"There is a pub, just around the corner." He offered. "I eat there a lot...it's fairly good." She nodded in recognition. He stood there, until the silence that permeated between them was suffocating. "Well, I suppose I will just be going then."

Hermione whispered a goodbye to him, before he turned and left the room. It was odd. It wasn't as though he and Hermione were friends. Hell, he was sure that she wouldn't even tolerate him if he hadn't agreed to help her, and he was sure that the feeling was mutual.

At least, that's what he told himself when he left her alone.

* * *

After a grueling week of treating with the vampires - they always offered them blood, to Antonin's absolute disgust - all he wanted to do was get home and climb into his bed and sleep for an age. However, he was certain that wouldn't be a possibility with his current houseguest.

It had been difficult not to tell Thorfinn about the little Gryffindor witch who may or may not be waiting for him when she returned. It was generally the hulking blond man's every ambition to get Antonin as drunk as possible in the hopes he'd open up more about his personal life. Thorfinn was a serial _over_ sharer and Antonin didn't care to trade stories about which witches he'd fucked.

He'd been roped into a drink after they gave the Dark Lord their report - that the vampires would support them in the coming war. Antonin was glad that he'd been able to focus on his last week of work when the Dark Lord delved into his mind. He was lucky that there was not a hint of Hermione in his mind, considering just how tired he was.

Though Antonin had no illusions about what would happen with Hermione when they'd completed their mission, he wasn't quite ready to turn her over to the man yet.

Thorfinn was good company, and the firewhiskey flowed generously at the Bottle & Glass. "What happened to your pretty little friend, Dolohov?" The bartender had smirked at the Russian man, causing Antonin to scowl and wonder how they had decided to go to _this_ bar of all of them in Knockturn Alley.

"Friend?" Rowle turned to look at him, eager to learn what secrets his friend had been hiding.

"Just a bit of fluff." Antonin said, desperately needing the topic of conversation to move on from him and Hermione. The last thing he needed was for Rowle to learn that he was harboring Hermione Granger of all people.

Thorfinn rolled his eyes. "You know, you trying to change the subject like that just makes it obvious to me that she, whoever she is, is much more than a bit of fluff. Salazar, were you ever even a Slytherin?"

Antonin was glad that Thorfinn didn't press the matter, despite letting him know that he was clearly caught in his lie. "No, I was a Ravenclaw, remember?" The two men hadn't been in the same year at Hogwarts, Antonin having been a few years ahead of the other.

"How could I have forgotten?" Thorfinn smiled. "Well, I should go find my own bit of fluff. A week is too long to be celibate." He said with a wink, before waltzing over to the prettiest girl in the bar, with long red hair. Though, Antonin's mind supplied that she was nothing like the wild beauty that Hermione was.

Scowling, and feeling a bit tipsy, he paid for his drink before apparating back to his flat.

When he first arrived, he blinked several times, concerned that he'd perhaps apparated to the wrong location. This couldn't be _his_ flat, could it? He looked around and saw the same furniture, crumbling plaster and knew it was the right place, he was just so taken aback by all the changes.

For one, it was actually clean for a change, and not the perfunctory cleansing charm that he performed on occassion. There was a _cozy_ looking blanket on the back of the couch, along with some pillows. His lamp had a shade on it. The fireplace, which he'd never been able to get working, was glowing with a small fire.

From where he stood, he could see the kitchen, sparkling and spotless, and with groceries on the counter. He ran his hand over his face. On the table in the living room, he noticed a stack of books - both his and hers - mixed in together, as though she'd been reading them.

It was overwhelming, to say the least. It was as if Hermione had just moved in with him, and formed a place for herself among his things. He scowled, feeling the discomfort of the situation roll over him. This was not _right_. This was not his flat.

He found Hermione in _his_ bedroom, reading one of his notebooks from his time at Gringotts, when he'd been eager to study arithmancy. He'd wanted to make a big breakthrough in the science. But then he'd met the Dark Lord. Her sweet voice startled him. "Your research was really quite brilliant. Why did you give it up?" The oddness of the question struck him by surprise.

"What the fuck did you do?" He snarled, motioning to the living room. She'd gone through his things, bringing out bits and pieces of his past that he would rather leave there. "Fires and lampshades...and, and, groceries!"

"You mean the cleaning? Honestly, Dolohov, it was as if no one even lived here. How could you stand it? I just tried to make it a little more pleasing...a bit easier to come home to." She said with a sneer, apparently offended that all of her hard work was being disregarded. "And as for the food...you didn't expect me to just eat pub food for a whole week, did you?"

"I liked the way that it was before." He said, feeling a bit badly. He hoped that he wasn't too harsh on the girl, but he was feeling off kilter and wobbly from the firewhiskey that rushed through his veins. "I don't need a _home_ , just a place to sleep."

Hermione looked hurt, as though he had just said something horrid to her. "Everyone needs a home." She said firmly, her eyes watering with tears. It made something tighten in Antonin's chest. She couldn't possibly think that her home was with _him_ now.

He sat down on the bed next to her, not in the mood to argue about this, glad that she didn't flinch or try to move away. He ran his hand over his face again, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I gave it up when I went to Azkaban." He said quietly, remembering all the ambition that he'd once had, only to have it ripped away from him. Once he got out of the wizarding prison, there was little of anything that brought him the joy that studying arithmancy once had.

The little witch wrapped her arms around his shoulders, shocking him. It was a comfort that he hadn't experienced in many, many years. The moment stretched on and he felt himself relaxing, wondering what she must think of him. Did she find him to be a sad, old man?

Before it became too much, she pulled away. "You stink, Dolohov. Why don't you go take a shower and I'll heat up my leftovers from dinner?" He knew that she was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him, but he didn't take the bait. Honestly, it sounded heavenly. He nodded wordlessly, standing from the bed so that he could take a shower.

Her dinner was actually quite good, to his surprise, some kind of pasta dish that helped dull the distraction of the firewhiskey he'd drunk. Though the changes had shocked him initially, he could see that they were nice to have. How long had it been since he'd had a witch make a meal for him? Over a decade for certain, he thought bitterly.

It was as if Hermione had breathed new life into him.

* * *

The morning after Dolohov returned from his business for you-know-how, Hermione was unsure how to proceed exactly. When he'd left, she'd thought about leaving several times, before resigning herself to the fact that she had no where else to stay. Then, she'd settled into a bit of a routine the week that he'd been gone and now it felt odd to more or less invade his space. It wasn't as if she _lived_ here, so it felt odd to walk about as if she did.

She shuffled into the kitchenette to make herself tea, and gave a small glance to the man asleep on the couch. Really, she should insist that he take his bed back. She could sleep on the couch for a change. She was his...well, guest, she supposed.

Hermione cursed when the tea kettle whistled, having forgotten to place a silencing charm on it. It was no use, though, Dolohov was awake, and he _didn't_ appear to be a morning person, Hermione thought, fighting to hide her grin when he stumbled into the kitchen. His hair was mussed and he was clearly still half asleep when he pulled the mug of tea out of her hands.

He took a long drink before blinking away the lingering sleep. Hermione was trying not to comment on the fact that he stood before her in just a pair of boxers and a thin white tshirt, putting his well built body rather on display. If he noticed her pink cheeks, he didn't say anything about it. "Give me thirty minutes, then we can go begin your lessons."

"Lessons?" She asked, startled from her thoughts.

"Yes, you were the one wanting to learn the avada kedavra were you not?" He said, his accent much more noticeable when his voice was gravely from sleep.

Hermione nodded. "Oh, yes, of course. I've been reading some of your texts on the subject, and well...its difficult to apply the theory without...well, a subject to…" She trailed off, seeing an amused look on his face. It made her flush again, and hate that she was talking about killing another human being with such a blasé attitude.

"Yes, I would imagine it would be." He finished the rest of the tea, before handing her the cup back, and stalking off in the direction of the bathroom. When he rejoined her in the living room, he was dressed much more like she expected Dolohov to be dressed, down to the swirling black cloak. Was that some kind of Death Eater uniform, she wondered snidely. It probably was.

He offered his arm out to her, so that he might side-along apparate her. "Shall we?" He asked. Hermione stared at his arm for a moment, wondering why she didn't feel even a hint of hesitation to take his arm. Had it really been a week ago that she stood in the rainy alley, feeling as though she were making a life or death decision by taking Antonin's arm?

And now, well, she trusted him. There could be no denying that fact. In the time that he was gone, she'd spent hours pouring through his books, each riddled with notes and ideas, and she felt as though she had a better understanding of who he was. Not to mention that he was the only person she felt truly safe around at the current moment. Though, perhaps that was foolish as well. He had tried to kill her only two years prior.

She took his arm and closed her eyes tightly, only to open them in wonder when they arrived where he took them. They were in a large, empty field. While it was not raining, it was gray and cloudy, the way it _always_ seemed to be, now that you-know-who was in power. She turned around, confused as to why they were there. "What are we doing here?"

Antonin smirked at her, in a condescending way that rankled Hermione. She hated the way that he always seemed to know more than her. "You are not ready to try the Killing Curse on a human, Granger. First, you will have to practice on the field mice."

Hermione scoffed at the idea. Killing wild animals? "Really, Dolohov? You want me to shoot at mice and rats out here?" It seemed juvenile and a little bit cruel, but then again wasn't snatching away a human's life just as cruel? What had happened to her parents had been undoubtedly cruel, and unforgivable.

"Let's just see how you do." Dolohov said, not even trying to conceal his smirk. "You have the rage, raw emotion, and knowledge of how to perform the spell, no doubt, but in order to get the spell to work you need to have the _intent_ to kill as well. Now, enough talking." Hermione watched as he cast a summoning spell to bring small rodents towards them.

Before long, Hermione could hear the noise of tiny feet headed their way, and soon, she was met by a rather large rat. She squared her shoulders, and raised her wand. She could do this, she thought with a fierce determination. After all, she could just imagine like this rat was Pettigrew, another odious traitor who deserved to die, without question.

Letting the enmity and passion that she felt bubble up inside her, she raised her wand. "You can do this." Hermione whispered, leveling her wand at the rat. " _Avada Kedavra!"_ Hermione cried, focusing all her intent on killing the rat in front of her.

She didn't realize that she'd clenched her eyes tightly, until she heard Antonin's slightly disappointed voice behind her. "Try again." He insisted firmly. To Hermione's surprise, the rat was still sitting there, looking up at her with an unusual look on it's face. As though it knew what she'd tried to do to it and but couldn't run away.

Hermione set her jaw, determined to get it right this time. She was Hermione Granger after all. " _Avada Kedavra."_ This time she watched as the green light left her wand, but fizzled out about halfway towards its intended target.

Antonin stood behind her, his voice near her ear. "You still haven't figured out the _intent_ yet." He admonished. "I can see that you are very determined to _succeed_ , but not to _kill_." It was true. He was quite impressed to see just how focused Hermione really was. He could see how she was such a good student - brightest witch of her age. But, still, she didn't quite have the will to be successful.

She gave an exasperated huff. Antonin was really annoying her, when she felt so silly trying to kill a rodent. She wasn't used to not being successful and it was eating away at her. Why could she just not do it? It seemed so simple, but it wasn't. She tried to trick her mind that she _wanted_ to kill the little rat. " _Avada Kedavra!"_ She shouted, all of her frustration and fury into the spell.

This time, she was only able to produce a tiny green spark. Unbidden, Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes, frustration boiling over into a tantrum. "I can't do it! You're having me practice on mice like it's a substitution for the real thing."

Antonin turned, his face not masking the frustration that he obviously felt. He grabbed her by the arms, and shook her. "Yes you can do it. If you can't kill a little mouse, how do you think you can possibly try to kill a person?"

Hermione scoffed. Obviously they were different. She wanted to kill Bill and Sirius, but she didn't want to kill some helpless little rat, even if she tried to imagine that it was Pettigrew. She was thinking back to even asking him to help her at all. Maybe this was all some big joke to him. Teach the stupid little mudblood to cast an Unforgivable...laugh behind her back when she fails miserably.

But then, she realized that wasn't likely. He sure seemed invested in her attempts and had only helped her so far. It would be an exceedingly long con, even if he was a Death Eater. Plus, he seemed genuinely invested in her tutelage so far.

Just, maybe...even though he was a renowned killer, ruthless and mean, but maybe he just wasn't very good at teaching his craft. Hermione turned to face him. "Is this how Voldemort teaches his Death Eaters to kill?" She asked, quietly, hoping that she didn't offend him.

His face was pure terror, and he thrust his hand against her mouth, to stop her words, only it was too late. "Fuck, there's a taboo. There's a taboo on his name." Antonin said, before spinning around in circles, hoping that it wasn't triggered. How could Hermione had known that there was a taboo on his name - who else was foolish enough to say it but Harry Potter and his ilk?

But it was foolish thinking to think that it was not triggered. Antonin heard one pop after another after another into the quiet clearing. They had company.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! I am so glad you liked the last chapter - even with that cliffhanger! This story is so completely different from anything else I've written, so it is so great to hear that you are enjoying. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks (like I did Monday!), story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter five and be on the lookout for chapter six soon!

* * *

Hermione was momentarily overcome by a feeling of failure. Oh, of all the times to be bold and say you-know-who's name, it had to be when there was a taboo in place. She couldn't help it though. There was something about Dolohov that made her crazy. She constantly wanted, no needed to challenge him.

It just made her feel worse to know that he was only trying to help her, despite his gruff way of going about it. And here she was repaying him by trying to get them killed!

Three rapid pops of apparition broke the stillness of the clearing that they were in. The rat she'd been trying to kill scampered away when the Death Eater and two snatchers showed up. Oh, Hermione had read all about the snatchers and the muggleborn registration commission, an odious thing thought up by Delores Umbridge. Snatchers roved the magical world looking for muggleborns to take them to the Ministry to stand trial for stealing magic from witches and wizards.

When she'd gone to the Department of Mysteries with the other members of Dumbledore's Army, she'd had a long ride on a thestral to prepare for the duel that she'd engaged in. She'd been hyper focused, and fretting, promising to herself that she would get Harry out of there if needed. She'd faced Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and even the man that was now shoving her behind his large body, putting himself between her and certain danger.

It was a bit curious, Hermione thought, that they should be on the same side this time. What was stopping him from throwing her to the wolves, so to speak, given that she had surely been a total pain in the arse since he found her in that bar? She was sure that he was regretting his decision more and more everyday. After all, what did he get out of it?

She recognized Travers, from the wanted posters when he'd escaped Azkaban prison during her fifth year. Greyback was difficult to miss as well, the hulking brute being larger than even Antonin. She'd been frightened of him ever since he'd pressed himself against her when the Death Eaters had broken into Hogwarts, telling her that he was going to eat her. She hadn't been sure if that was meant to be sexual or cannibalistic, but either way, she didn't fancy finding out. The third man was unfamiliar to her, but she didn't for a second imagine that he wasn't as dangerous as the other two.

Travers appeared to be the leader of the motly little group that had stumbled upon them. "Dolohov, what the fuck? You said the Dark Lord's name?" The weedy man looked around the clearing in confusion. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

Hermione felt her breath hitch, wishing, praying that she wouldn't be discovered. That was of course wishful thinking when one of the snatchers present was a _fucking_ werewolf. A feral grin on his face revealed that he knew more than his two brethern did. "Not Dolohov, the mudblood is here. I would recognize her sweet scent anywhere."

Greyback began circling around them, until all three men had Hermione and Antonin surrounded. Closing her eyes in defeat, Hermione took a deep breath before stepping out from the protection that Dolohov's body provided her, her wand trained on Travers, looking at the man dispassionately.

"Dolohov, what are you doing with the mudblood?" Travers demanded, his mind clearly working overtime to try to figure out the situation. Hermione could see Antonin's clenching his jaw so tightly, she thought he might crack a molar. His dark eyes glittered dangerously, but he didn't offer any words to his companion.

Greyback laughed. "Think that would be obvious. Probably trying to fuck her." He took a step closer to the pair, causing the hair on Hermione's arms to stand on end. "Maybe we can convince him to share her before we kill her."

The thought of Greyback forcing himself was enough to make Hermione physically ill. Before she could stop herself, she threw a stinging jinx at Greyback, hoping it was enough to keep him away from her.

Travers sneered. "Fuck no. I don't want to sully myself with _her_." Hermione wanted to spat back at him that he wasn't exactly her type either. "Come on, Antonin. Just kill the bitch and let's get on with it. Think of the reward the Dark Lord will give us."

Hermione hoped that he didn't agree with the other man, knowing that she probably had quite the price on her head. Antonin shook his head once. "Leave her to be. Go back to whatever you were doing. I can handle her." She could see that his grip on his wand was so tight his knuckles were going white.

Thinking back to that battle in the Department of Mysteries, she figured that Dolohov just might be the best Death Eater to have on her side. He was formidable and ruthless. And, for some reason, he decided in that clearing that she was worth looking after. For now at least.

Travers wasn't exactly ready to take no for an answer. "Fuck that. Have you turned your cloak, Dolohov?" His eyes narrowed at this point. He was finally getting a better grasp of the situation, that Dolohov _wasn't_ trying to kill her, but rather, was here with her by some other design.

Those words set off the third man, who'd remained silent up to this point. He tried to send an _incarcerous_ at Hermione, who blocked the spell, just barely missing Greyback with the resulting rope. Antonin had reacted so quickly that she barely had time to blink when the green spell shot out of the end of the wand, hitting the unknown snatcher in the chest, killing him instantly.

Hermione felt her breath leave her at the sight, her mind clouded and confused. Antonin had just _killed_ someone for her. Hermione Granger.

Before she could think on it much more, though, she was snapped back into reality that they were now in a full on duel. It was two against two, but she knew that she was a liability to Antonin, just not comfortable yet with dark or damaging spells. Still, now was _not_ the time to get all moral, it was either kill or be killed. Or, at least be as little of a distraction as possible for the man who was working so hard to protect her.

She began trading spells with Fenrir Greyback, and she was pleased to learn that she was winning, even though her lungs were screaming from the effort. Greyback was a better dueler than she'd have thought, though he wasn't creative and he was primarily focused on throwing as much raw power behind each of his spells as possible.

Hermione knew that she was never the best dueler, but she was impressed to be holding her own. The theory had always come to her quite easily, but she'd always had difficulty executing spells. But now, she thought she might actually win.

She'd found the sectumsempra spell distasteful when Harry had used it against Draco Malfoy that year, it was the first slicing hex that she could think of - _for enemies_ repeating in her brain - when she wanted to cause real damage to Greyback. The spell hit her target with a surprising level of accuracy.

The werewolf gasped, holding his hand against the bright red blood that stained his shirt. She'd surprised him as well, and it finally sunk in that he was not going to win this. But, before he apparated away, he threw one last spell her way, which Hermione had to duck to avoid.

When she ducked, she left Antonin's back vulnerable to attack, and it struck him right in the back. Gasping for air, Antonin fell to the ground, giving Travers the upper hand in their duel. He smirked, walking towards the crumpled man on the ground.

Hermione wanted to cower away from the cruel man, but she knew that she needed to protect Antonin, the only person who'd killed someone for her. She felt a rush of adrenaline when she realized that she could return the favor for him. Just who was Travers, thinking that he could take Antonin from her? Just who was Travers, thinking that he could disregard her, because she was a muggleborn?

She channeled the rage that filled her body, not masking the hate on her face. Her wand raised, she pointed true and sure at the man, before casting the spell she'd been practicing all day, the zig zag motion perfectly executed. " _Avada Kedavra!"_ She roared, watching in horror and anticipation as the spell left her wand and hit Travers.

His eyes were immediately glassy, his mouth frozen in shock, as he fell backwards on the ground of the clearing, dead. Hermione stood there dumbly for a moment, before she realized that Antonin was still on the ground, writhing in pain. She dropped to her knees beside him, pushing his hair from his face. "Finite Incantartum."

She watched as he regained his breath, pain easing from his body. He groaned as he sat up, offering her his arm. "Kitten, we have to leave before they come back. I won't be able to apparate us yet."

Hermione took his hand, realizing that he needed her to side-along him back to the flat. Centering herself, she let thought of Antonin's flat pull her through space. It was uncomfortable to side-along someone else, but she was just glad she got him back in one piece, considering it was the first time that she'd ever attempted it. She wouldn't tell _him_ that though.

When they were back in the stark white living room, some of the adrenaline from the duel began to fade away, and Hermione realized that she was shaking. They were safe now, yes, but she had...she had...Hermione had killed someone.

She couldn't decide if she should feel awful that a part of her was so pleased to have been successful. She was also freaked out that she had taken someone else's life from them, even if it was a creep like Travers. Every time that she closed her eyes, she would see his glassy eyes staring back up at her.

Noticing that the witch was trembling, Antonin placed his hands on her shoulders. "Sit, I will get you something to drink." He stalked off to the kitchen, before pouring them each an extremely generous portion of firewhiskey. Antonin couldn't imagine all of the things that she was feeling right now, but he knew that the bite of the drink would clear extraneous thoughts.

Hermione surprised him, taking the glass, before taking two big gulps, not even flinching from the burn. He sat next to her on the couch, cautiously, wondering if she would snap or if she would possibly stand tall after what had happened. He was beginning to think that she didn't have it in her when she whined that she couldn't kill a fucking _rat_.

But then, she'd been some kind of warrior goddess, holding her own against Fenrir Greyback, who Antonin knew to pack quite the punch in his spells. And then she'd...well, she'd saved his life, protecting him from Travers. Whatever bond the pair of them had now, had been strengthen ten times over. It had been a long time since he felt like he could trust a woman the way that he trusted her.

Her voice wavered when she finally spoke. "Were...was Travers...your friend?" She asked quietly, perhaps concerned that he was in any way angry with her.

Antonin couldn't stop the snort of derision at her question. "Fuck no." He told her firmly, wanting to make it clear that he didn't harbor any positive feelings for the odious man. Just because they both followed the Dark Lord didn't mean that he had to get along with every Death Eater. Looking at Hermione, he noticed a ghost of a smile on her lips. "What are you thinking about kitten?" He asked her softly.

Her hands had stopped trembling as she had begun drinking the firewhiskey, but Antonin could still see her mind was spinning. He worried that she was going to be too fragile, too sweet, too _good_ and be unable to rationalize that she'd just killed someone.

To his surprise, when she finally looked him in the eyes again, she was fighting a smirk. "I know that I should feel awful, disgusted with myself... That I just _murdered_ someone." She said quietly, emotion cracking her voice. "But, all I can think about is how proud I am that I was successful. That I accomplished something."

Her words sent Antonin reeling. Perhaps he hadn't been giving the girl enough credit. Or perhaps, her world was still spinning, adrenaline coursing through her body, making her feel high and light. He supposed he wouldn't know until tomorrow once the gravity of her situation really sunk in. He grasped the bottle of firewhiskey and poured her a second drink into her empty glass, before pouring himself a double.

He'd been through a lot today, and he couldn't deny that things were irrevocably changed today. He'd killed some nameless snatcher, and he'd turned his wand on a fellow Death Eater, all to protect the tiny witch he shared the couch with. To make matters worse, Greyback had gotten away, which meant that his...well, treachery, would be taken note of. He could bet that Greyback had scurried off to tell the Dark Lord exactly what had happened.

Antonin knew that it would be only a short matter of time before he was called before the Dark Lord to explain what happened. What would he tell his master, he wondered? Would the truth be enough to pique the interest of the fickle man that he served? Would the Dark Lord be intruiged enough by Hermione's circumstance to forgive the fact that Antonin hadn't turned her over immediately? He could only hope.

Next to him, Hermione began giggling. "I really did it, Antonin!" She said once again. The sound of his given name on her lips made an unsual warmth spread through his body. Why did he like it so much? "I actually cast the Killing Curse. And on a person, not just an animal. If I see Sirius or Bill, I should have no trouble taking them down."

He knew that the possibilities were likely exciting for her to consider, but he knew that Hermione was _not_ ready to face either of the men that had killed her parents. Yes, she was successful today, but she was likely to face a lot more emotional blocks if she tried to kill someone who'd once been a respected friend. "Slow down, there, kitten." He cautioned. "You did well, but you aren't quite ready yet."

Inside, he felt his traitorous brain lamenting when she would actually kill the two men. Then, there would be no more reason for her to be around. He shook his head, before taking another big drink of firewhiskey. He knew that he should slow down or else he'd end up raging drunk, and risk scaring the girl.

"What was it like?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding more somber. "The first time that you killed someone?"

Antonin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sounding more like a shudder. "It's not a pretty story, kitten." He said, his memory clouding with dark thoughts of the family that he'd left behind in Russia.

"Neither is mine." Hermione countered. "Is any tale of murder pretty?"

He nodded at that, supposing that she was telling the truth. He'd never told anyone the story before, but he found himself opening up to her, perhaps because of the amount that he drank, perhaps because of the look in her pretty brown eyes. "My father beat my mother to death when I was just a boy. I found her." He started his story quietly. "Since then, I had no _tolerance_ for men that beat their wives."

He sneered, keeping his eyes off her face. "My sister, Nadia, was a few years older than me, and by the time I'd graduated from Hogwarts, she was married to a man, and they'd had a child called Dmitri. I came back to visit, and found that her husband had been beating her, and the boy."

He could hear Hermione gasp beside him, and she put a hand on his shoulder. He was surprised by just how much comfort that one touch calmed him. "I only meant to teach him a lesson...to never lay a hand on my sister again, but by the time that I was finished...I had learned so many _dark_ spells at Hogwarts...I killed him." He finished the rest of his drink.

Hermione was biting her lower lip when he finally looked at her again. "What happened to your sister?" She asked, and he was touched by her genuine concern for a total stranger.

"I thought she would be happy, thankful that I was looking out for her. But...Nadia was furious with me for taking away her husband, even if he hurt her. She drank herself to death less than a year later." He said darkly, wishing things had been different. Wishing that his family wasn't cursed to this misery. "My grandmother raised the boy. I returned to England and never looked back."

Antonin knew that he was on the edge of drunk, and he hoped that the glassy look in Hermione's eyes was caused by her drunkenness too, not unshed tears for _him_. He didn't think he could bare it if she said he'd done the _right thing_. All of the levity she'd felt before had clearly been extinguished by his sad story.

He was shocked when her eyes roved down his face, until they landed on his lips. He felt electric shocks of anticipation run through his body when she seemed to be moving closer to him, her mouth a hairsbreadth away from his own. He knew then that he needed to taste her, and closed the gap.

Her lips were soft and firm against his, her lower lip pressed between his, moving gently before gaining urgency. He couldn't pretend that he hadn't thought about catching her lower lip with his whenever he saw her nibbling on the it, wanting to sooth away the damage with his tongue. Now, it appeared that he got his chance.

Opening his lips, he ran his tongue against the seam of her lips, needing to get inside of her. The sound of her moaning was music to his ears and he was glad when she responded in kind, no hesitancy when her tongue met his. He could feel the day, thoughts of the future, and the past melting away, until all that was left was right here with Hermione.

His mind was spinning, fuzzy with alcohol, and feeling as though everything was right and perfect in the world. Hermione was much more aggressive than he ever would have imagined, her hands in his hair, holding him to her, pushing her body against his. He was trying to remember a time that he wanted a girl as much as he wanted Hermione right now, but he couldn't remember.

It wasn't as though he was _in love_ with the witch, but she felt better than anything he could remember, and all he could focus on was her hot mouth, breaking away from his lips to kiss down his neck.

He was pushing her back, then, against the couch, using his body to cover her own, his hips cradled by her open thighs, his hard cock pressed tightly against her. He heard her intake of breath, and pulled away momentarily, reading her face for any hint of concern or upset, but he found nothing, just raw desire in her dazed expression. He knew that she'd drank as much as him, and they should probably stop, but his hands were already up her shirt.

Hermione sat up to help him pull her shirt up over her head, revealing creamy white skin to his greedy eyes. Only then did he notice a thin purple scar across her chest, from shoulder to hip, cutting under a pretty lace bra. His finger traced the curse scar, wondering who would do something like this to her before it hit him.

Antonin reeled back.

He did this to her - him with his _bloody_ curse at the _bloody_ Department of Mysteries when she'd just been a _bloody_ child. She was nearly a child still, though her womanly curves said otherwise.

She gave him an exasperated look. "What? What is it?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows to try and get a good look at his face. When she saw that his eyes were not trained on her breasts as she'd thought, but rather on her fading purple scar, she knew. The delicate balance they'd had, pretending that he hadn't tried to kill her once before, was tipped.

He pulled back and Hermione was surprised to see a look of disgust on his face. For a moment, she thought it might be disgust at her body, bisected by the horrific scar. It had faded a lot since she'd first received it, but it was still something she would wear until the day she died. She hoped that some day, men might not recoil from the sight of it. But then, he ran his hands over his face, and Hermione realized that he was not disgusted at how she looked, but rather, disgusted with _himself_. "I did that to you." He said quietly. Hermione almost couldn't believe that he felt so horribly about the souvenir he'd left her. When he'd cursed her, she would have said he wanted her dead.

Now, though...now things were different. They were no longer enemies. They had stumbled into an awkward friendship in just days, and Hermione felt more secure with Dolohov than she'd ever felt at the Order. There was no lying or subterfuge with him, which was the opposite of how it _should_ be, she thought. He was a Slytherin after all.

Instead, she was the one comforting _him_ now, placing a tiny hand on his bicep. "Antonin, it's okay, I don't mind. I'd forgiven you first morning I woke up here." She told him, knowing that it was true in her heart. She wasn't sure _why_ she'd forgiven him, but it was the truth. She tried to pull him closer, wanting to join their bodies at the lips again. Her body was aching and she'd rather bury her thoughts and emotions in pure bliss, not to dwell on them until the morning.

He moved his shoulder away from her, as though scalded by her touch. His head was hung, and Hermione could see that it was really affecting him. "Go to bed, Hermione." His gruff voice commanded.

Oh, how she wished he was using that voice to whisper dirty things into her ear! But she knew that it was a lost cause...the moment between them, whatever it was, had passed. She reached down and grabbed his hand in hers, waiting for him to look up at her. "Come with me. The bed is big enough for the both of us."

He gave her a skeptical look, but seemed to be considering her words.

She nibbled on her lower lip. "No funny business, I promise. Just...I feel bad putting you out of your own bed." She stood, tugging on his hand, and was surprised to find almost no resistance to her. He walked behind her into the dark of the bedroom.

Hermione changed into her pajamas, before climbing under the covers. Antonin removed his outer robes, but left on his clothes, staying on top of the sheets. He laid beside her, rigid and obviously nervous, but she still felt as though she'd won.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! It really means so much that you guys are enjoying this story, which is so different from everything else I've written. In some exciting news, my story Sleeper got second place for Best Completed Fic in the 2016 Marauder Medals, so if you are interested, definitely go check it out! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter six, and be on the lookout for chapter seven soon!

* * *

At some point in the night, Antonin had weaseled his way under the covers, and woke up basking in the warmth that Hermione provided, her little body wrapped around his. His arm was wrapped around her shoulder, and her head and hand rested on his chest, while one leg was thrown over his, her knee dangerously close to the evidence of just how much she affected him.

He wondered what was wrong with him that he have caught such intense feelings for the witch in just two weeks. Was this some hold over from his childhood, where affection was stingy and no one ever appreciated what he did for them? Was it leftover from Azkaban where he'd been so starved of any emotion that now that a pretty witch batted her eyelashes at him, he felt as if his heart would beat out of his chest?

Rubbing his free hand over his face, he tried to hold in the groan that was threatening to spill from his throat. What the fuck had he been thinking kissing the witch the night before? His body tried to remind him that she was just as into it as he was, and she'd invited him into bed, but...his mind knew better.

She'd been running on adrenaline the day before, conflicted over actually killing someone and trying to reconcile her feelings about her pride at being successful. She'd craved an emotional connection with someone else to prove that she wasn't a heartless beast. He knew, he'd been there before.

But that didn't mean that he was a suitable connection for her. Even overlooking the fact that he was considerably older than her, a dark wizard...he'd tried to murder her when she'd just been a girl. Really, she was still just a girl. He'd left evidence of a particularily brutal curse on her body. It would be there for the rest of her life.

And she had the nerve to forgive him for it?

He needed to put some distance between them, give her a chance to realize that he wasn't what she wanted. That if she weren't so emotionally fragile, she would realize that she'd be running as far away from him as possible.

And he...he would just need to take some time to get her out of his head.

Antonin could have sat their wallowing in self pity until she woke up, but he was jarred from his moving by a sharp sting in his forearm. He hissed, jumping, jostling the witch from his side. She was still sleepy and confused. "Antonin, what is it?" She asked, her voice husky wtih sleep.

Frowning, Antonin realized this was a perfect reminder of why he couldn't have this kind of domesticity with her. "I'm being summoned by the Dark Lord." He said flatly, standing up from the bed and pressing his hand against his arm to try to ease the ache.

Her eyes flew open at his words. "What's going to happen...they know now, about me?" Her thoughts were obviously jumbled, but on point. Of course, the Death Eaters must know about her at this point, seeing as she'd managed to take down someone like Travers and that she'd maimed Greyback.

He was sure that Greyback would have run immediately to the Dark Lord to tattle on Antonin for keeping her a secret, and he wasn't looking forward to having to explain to his master why he was harboring a fugative, especially with so many raw emotions for her swirling about in his mind.

"Stay put. I will be back shortly." He said with some confidence. He was about to add instructions to her for if he...didn't return home, but he didn't want to worry her. If he never came back then she'd at least be safe in his flat. Glad that he hadn't undressed, he quickly grabbed his outer robes, throwing them on, before running a hand through his messy hair. Grabbing his wand, he focused on the pain in his dark mark, letting it pull him to wherever the Dark Lord was waiting.

He appeared in Malfoy Manor, only to be greeted by the smiling face of the Dark Lord, several members of the inner circle assembled. Lucius looked like shit, with dark smudges under his eyes. Greyback stood huddled next to the Dark Lord's throne looking completely too happy with himself for Antonin's liking. Snape looked on dispassionately. "Ahh, Antonin, how lovely of you to join us." The Dark Lord's slithering voice gave him chills.

Antonin nodded his head to the assembled, but didn't speak yet. He didn't know what the Dark Lord knew, so he wasn't about to start giving him more information by running his mouth.

"I understand that you have a little...house guest." The Dark Lord said, getting immediately to the point. "Why is it that I am having to learn about it from Greyback? Why have you not brought the mudblood Granger to me?"

He took a deep breath, before deciding to answer his Lord honestly. "I stumbled upon the girl a few days ago in a pub. The Order murdered her parents and tried to stage it to look like a Death Eater attack, including casting the morsmorde."

The Dark Lord looked affronted at this. "Is that so?"

"Perposterous." Snape said from his place of honor. "My Lord, that does not sound like the kind of act that the Order would do."

"I agree." Antonin conceeded. "And I never would have believed it had I not encountered the perpetrators, Sirius Black and Bill Weasley, myself."

Sneering down from his throne, the Dark Lord glared at Bellatrix. "If only you'd gotten rid of that stain on your house when you had the chance." Antonin knew he was referring to the time in the Department of Mysteries, only the werewolf Lupin had jumped in front of Black, shielding him from the curse and dying in the process. "And it still doesn't explain why you haven't brought the girl to me."

"I was going to, only…" Antonin began, his eyes trained on the Dark Lord. "She asked me to teach her to cast the Killing Curse to get her revenge on Weasley and Black. I thought, why not let her take out two of our enemies, and then I would bring her to you."

The reedy laugh at his pronouncement made the hair on Antonin's arms stand on end. "Well, I must say that the mudblood is full of delightful surprises." He steepled his long fingers together. "And yet, she killed Travers and nearly killed Greyback."

"She was defending herself." Antonin snapped back, sneering at Greyback. "If Greyback and Travers can be bested by a mudblood maybe they should train more. Or, in Greyback's case, perhaps he shoulder focus less on what's between her legs and more on her wand."

The Dark Lord didn't laugh at that, though several of the assembled Death Eaters did. "And now you defend her." He cocked his head to the side, as though trying to understand what made Antonin tick. "Severus, you know this girl from Hogwarts. What do you make of her?"

Severus cleared his throat. "She was always insufferable, speaking out of term, and constantly needing to prove herself. But...the girl did possess a vast intellect and skill at several magical subjects, including potions. Though, she limited herself by following the rules."

It was quiet in the hall for a moment while the Dark Lord pondered his thoughts. "I will allow you to continue with your...little plan, Antonin. But once the blood traitors have been taken care of. I want you to bring Hermione Granger to me. We will see just what she has to offer the cause."

Antonin wanted to argue, but he was mostly just glad to escape without a crucio. "Yes, my Lord." He promised, before giving Snape a look. It was clear that the sallow man cared a bit more for the girl than he let on, if he was willing to vouch for her. Not to mention the fear on his face when he learned that Antonin was the one who she was staying with. He wondered if there was anything there.

He couldn't imagine that Hermione would be too enthused to learn that the Dark Lord wanted to meet with her or even try to find a place for her in his takeover of the Wizarding World. She'd been incredibly adamant about that when he first agreed to help her. He wondered if the feeling of successfully casting dark magic would sway her over to their side. After all, the promise of new knowledge had tipped the scales for him.

If he knew Hermione, though, he would imagine that she'd rather kill herself than help the Dark Lord. She was a proud muggleborn witch, after all, and the Dark Lord was rather focused on eliminating her kind.

The cries of a woman got his attention, then, as the Dark Lord crucioed Narcissa Malfoy for some offense caused by Lucius or Draco. It wouldn't do to have his head in the clouds, because he could be next in line for punishment if he was caught wool gathering.

He just wished he could get out of there soon, to get back to Hermione.

* * *

After Antonin had left that morning - summoned by You-Know-Who no less - Hermione had been unable to return to the warm cocoon of sleep. She couldn't believe how well she'd slept the night prior, knowing that it was in the arms of a notorious Death Eater and murderer.

Then again, she supposed she fit that bill now too.

She couldn't believe how much she'd come to trust Antonin in just a few short weeks. There was something about him that made her feel utterly safe and protected. But more than that, she felt as if he understood her better than anyone else, even more so than her two best friends of six years.

It didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes, either, Hermione thought, her cheeks growing hot at the thought. He was tall and well built, especially considering he'd spent so many years in Azkaban. Sirius had come out looking haggard and painfully thin, and still hadn't recovered four years later. Antonin had clearly regained his musculature from what she'd seen of him strutting around the flat, not caring that he was just wearing a towel in front of her. And then last night...oh, she wished that he hadn't noticed her scar. He was a fabulous kisser, and Hermione was sure she would have done whatever he wanted last night when her mind was drunk with firewhiskey and power.

Now, she felt like a bit of a hussy, just throwing herself on him like that. But, it had been lovely to feel close to another person...close to him, even if she just had it for a moment. Still, she was determined to get him to look past the scars next time. Before, she'd thought she'd run as far from Antonin as possible when she'd gotten her revenge, but now, she didn't think she could give him up.

Still, she hated just sitting around the flat, thinking about his kisses, waiting for him to return from his own business. She'd proved the day before that she could hold her own, didn't she? She'd been able to take down a seasoned Death Eater, so she should be able to handle Bill on her own, shouldn't she?

He was the obvious target, seeing as he still was working for Gringotts, one of the only Order members to actually keep their job after they lost control of Hogwarts. It wouldn't be hard to get him alone while he was there any then engage in a duel. Just thinking of the way he'd tried to hex her just the other day had her blood boiling. It would be good to strike now, when and where he least expected it.

The only problem was that she couldn't just waltz into Gringotts without a purpose. Bill was a curse breaker, so if she could just find a cursed object. Her eyes lingered on the closet where she'd found most of Antonin's school things. He hadn't seemed upset that she'd read his notes and research, or that she'd gone through his things, just that she'd made his flat more homey...

She nibbled on her lower lip, before opening the closet door. He was sure to have some kind of cursed artifact in there, and even if he didn't, she could just curse something herself. The goblins weren't about to turn away money, no matter how easy the curse breaking would be.

Antonin didn't have that much stuff Hermione had noticed, remembering her own beaded bag stuffed to the brim with things. Aside from the bookshelf stuffed full of books in the living room, everything else was pretty bare, which made her feel a bit sad. She wondered what had made him hide away all of his things in the tiny closet in his room. Perhaps it had something to do with his family turmoil, some of which he'd shared the day before.

A cursory spell indicated that there was nothing in the closet with any kind of serious curses on it, to her disappointment. She pulled out what she assumed was his old Hogwarts trunk and began digging through it, finding all kinds of odds and ends she'd assumed that a teenage boy would have, only to be surprised to find Ravenclaw quidditch pennants.

Of course, not all dark wizards came out of Slytherin, Hermione thought bitterly.

Resuming her search, her fingers lingered on a photo album, but she thought that going through it would be a bit too much of a privacy invasion for Antonin to swallow. Finally, her fingers closed around a broken pocket watch.

Hermione looked at the dial. It was clear that it hadn't run for sometime, and she wondered if he even knew that he still had it. In wizarding culture, it was common practice to give a wizard a watch on his seventeenth birthday, when he reached his majority. She felt a bit bad to be taking something that could have significant meaning to him, but he'd just hidden it away…

Walking into the kitchen, Hermione began layering several low grade curses on the watch - a searing curse, a giggling curse, the gemino curse - until she finally thought that she had enough to warrant a visit to Gringotts.

Leaving the watch on the table, Hermione walked into the bathroom and began creating a glamour for herself. She'd done it several times while Antonin was gone, so that she could leave the flat and get groceries without recognition. She crafted her glamour off of one of her classmates, her hair straightening and lightening in color until it matched the dirty blonde of Daphne Greengrass. Then she gave herself Daphne's brilliant green eyes.

She left the rest of her features unchanged, but Hermione had learned that most people just saw what they expected to see. And no one expected to see Hermione Granger without her characteristic bushy hair.

Digging around in her beaded bag, Hermione located some semi-formal witches robes. It also wouldn't do to just show up in dirty jeans and trainers. She needed to look the part if she was going to avoid suspicion.

Checking herself once more in the mirror, Hermione thought she looked the part. Before she could leave, though, she decided to leave Antonin a note letting him know where she was going. Hopefully, she would be back before he was and he wouldn't worry. Then they could celebrate that they had one less traitor to take down.

Wrapping the watch in fabric so that she didn't touch it, Hermione apparated into Diagon Alley. It was odd to see the normally bustling alley so empty, but she supposed that was just what life would be like under Voldemort's rule.

Hermione knew that she couldn't live under Voldemort's rule, seeing as she was a muggleborn witch, so she would need to begin to think about what to do once she'd handled Sirius and Bill. As much as she wanted to, she knew that she couldn't go back to the Order and pretend like nothing had happened.

She'd thought about reaching out to Harry, hoping that he would help her, but who knew what kind of lies they'd been feeding him? Also, she knew that he thought the world of Sirius and she couldn't see him doubting his godfather - the only real chance of family he'd had in his life. It hurt to think about, but she remembered all the times thus far that she'd been tossed aside for Ron.

Keeping her head down, she walked purposefully through the empty streets, until she reached the big doors of the bank. Entering the bank always set Hermione on edge. She hated the way the goblins ignored you, but seemed to know everything about what you were doing at the same time.

The sound of her low heels clicking against the marble echoed in the cavernous building. She cleared her throat when she reached the information desk. "I have a watch with several curses on it. I was referred to a particular curse breaker, by my cousin, Miss Delacour." Hermione knew it was a risk to name drop Fleur, but she'd worked at the bank for a time as well.

It certainly got the goblin's attention, who had been doing everything to avoid eye contact with her thus far. "And which curse breaker would that be, Miss…?"

Hermione inwardly cursed for not thinking of a name for herself. She panicked. "Miss Green." She said firmly. "I'm visiting from the continent and I was assured that Bill Weasley would be able to help with this." She waited, trying not to flinch under the goblin's intense gaze, praying to Morgana and Merlin that he wasn't going to see through her ruse.

Eventually he nodded, before hopping off his stool. "Right this way, Miss Green. Curse Breaker Weasley has a free hour now." He lead her through a winding hallway, before knocking on a door and entering the office. "Curse Breaker Weasley, this is Miss Green. She's come to have some jewelry looked at."

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when Bill smiled graciously at her. "Of course, Miss Green, come in, sit. Now what is this jewelry you want looked at?"

She slid into the chair across the desk before handing him the wrapped pocket watch. "It's a pocket watch. I found it when going through my grandfather's things and I hoped to have it fixed up."

With Bill's eyes completely focused on the bundle in his hands, Hermione took a deep breath, trying to give herself a pep talk to accomplish what needed to happen next. _You can do this witch, I know you can._

* * *

Antonin was pleased to return not much past mid day after being summoned by the Dark Lord. He wasn't looking forward to telling Hermione what had happened, but he knew he needed to. He couldn't deny that he cared for the witch now that he'd spent so much time with her. She deserved to at least know what designs the Dark Lord had on her. He owed her that much.

Apparating into the flat, he was surprised that Hermione wasn't waiting in the living room for him. "Hermione?" He called out, before walking into the kitchen to get a drink. If she was nice enough to get groceries for him, he was going to use them. Grabbing the pumpkin juice from the fridge he took a long drink from the carton, not caring about germs. "Hermione, I have to tell you something." He said, hoping to rouse her from the bedroom if she was napping. They should probably return to the clearing to do some more practice anyway.

He put the carton back in the cooling cabinet, before turning and looking around. Then he noticed the piece of parchment on the kitchen table. Picking it up, he read the harried words carefully, feeling fear drop in his belly.

"Fuck!" He cried, after reading that Hermione was going to take care of Bill Weasley at fucking Gringotts of all places. He cursed her stupidity, her Gryffindor tendencies, rushing headlong into a situation without thinking of the consequences of her actions.

Grabbing his wand tightly, he knew that he had to go help her. Antonin apparated away to Diagon Alley.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Ooh! Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! I know it was a bit hard with that cliffhanger, but the wait is OVER! I think that you guys are really going to like this chapter...I've been anticipating this one most of all. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter seven, and be on the lookout for chapter eight soon!

* * *

To calm herself, Hermione focused on looking around the room at Bill's office. It was a nice office, dominated by a huge desk covered in disheveled paperwork that Hermione would be itching to tidy up and organize. She noticed pictures of the Weasley family on his desk, as well as one of Fleur, looking beautiful in the falling snow.

 _Fleur_. Hermione thought, her heart clenching in guilt. Sure, she hadn't gotten along with the part veela woman initially, but as time went on, she wasn't so bad. And she was clearly so in love with Bill, despite Mrs. Weasley's attempts to separate the pair. Could she really do this to the blonde woman so close to her wedding? To rip away her one true love from the Earth?

Hermione scowled, then, thinking that Bill obviously hadn't given much thought to her parents and how _she_ would feel when they were murdered. So why should she give any thought to the people that Bill would leave behind?

Bill cleared his throat and her eyes snapped back to him. Hermione schooled her features and hoped to Merlin that her glamour would hold, even with the absolutely odious face that she'd been giving him. The watch was floating in front of him, while he'd been teasing out just what curses were on it.

"Who did you say that the watch belonged to?" He asked tentatively. Hermione cursed, thinking that he was on to her. The curses were not particularly tricky to remove. Really, the only one that would give substantial difficulty was the gemino curse, but most people who'd gotten an O in charms should be able to undo it, given sufficient time and patience.

She gave him a demure smile. "I _found_ it in my grandfather's things." She insisted, hoping that he would continue to go along with the story she'd concocted.

He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. "It's just that...none of the curses have a very long age. In fact it seems like they were placed rather recently. Miss Green, are you sure that you didn't take this from someone who didn't want you to have it?"

Hermione frowned, surprised that he thought her a thief. And on top of that, she wasn't positive that Antonin _would_ be pleased that she had taken the watch, even if _he_ hadn't been the one's to place the curses. "No! As I said, he recently died, and I only just started going through his things. If you cannot remove the curses, I can just take it elsewhere." She said, trying to sound haughty.

To her immense surprise, it seemed to work. He gave her one last lingering glance before he shrugged his shoulders and began working to move the simple curses. While all of his attention was focused on the pocket watch, Hermione pulled her wand from her sleeve gripping the handle tightly in her hand.

She tried to relax, letting the unbearable rage that _this_ man in front of her had killed her mother and father. She tried to channel all that feeling into her magic, and then tried to feel the intent that Antonin insisted that she needed. _I want to kill Bill, I want to kill Bill, I want to kill Bill_. Hermione repeated that phrase over and over again in her mind until she'd convinced herself, with every fiber of her being, that it was true.

She raised her head and her wand, only to find Bill looking at her quite oddly. Recognition filtered over his face, and Hermione felt her concentration evaporate. Her glamour must have failed. The watch fell in a clatter onto the desk.

Bill stood up from his desk so quickly that it knocked the chair over behind him. He was at an advantage, as he'd already had his wand drawn and now it was trained on her form. "Hermione, did Dolohov send you? I can help you." He said, his voice firm and calm.

Hermione smirked at him, trying to convince her that she'd been brainwashed. She was sure this would make a pretty memory for the Order. "Dolohov didn't send me. I am here to take care of some unfinished business." She told him, before sending a slicing hex his way, wanting him to feel the pain that her parents must have felt.

He blocked the curse easily enough, but it ricocheted off the shelving on the wall, sending glass baubles flying. Hermione was barely able to throw up a protego to protect herself from the glass and then the incarcerous that Bill tried to send her way.

He gave her a conciliatory smile. "He's lying to you Hermione. Whatever Dolohov has been telling you is a lie." Bill promised.

Hermione sneered before sending a jelly legs jinx at him that struck true to its mark. To her disappointment, he easily countered it. "You are lying to me Bill. I saw it with my own eyes!" Hermione was already getting too emotional, tears clouding her vision. She _hated_ the way that he was trying to confuse her, especially because it was so unbelievable that they would have killed her parents in the first place. Her memory of the afternoon was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Instead of responding, she let the emotion wash over her. Raising her wand at him, she tried the one spell she needed to end this little confrontation. "Avada Kedavra!" She called, only to watch in horror as it fizzled halfway to him.

"Hermione you _aren't_ a killer." Bill told her, laughing. The sound cut her like a knife, reminding her of the continual failure she proved to be in this one area of magic. "Harry and Ron are really worried about you, Hermione. Come home, and they will forgive you for anything that Dolohov made you do."

"Antonin isn't making me do anything!" Hermione screeched, hating the shrill way that her voice sounded. She was losing it, and she needed to regain control. But the mention of her two best friends sent her off kilter. She hated the way that they so quickly believed _everything_ that Dumbledore said. They never questioned him. Couldn't they see that it was just lies?

Shaking her head, Hermione tried to focus, and began throwing any spell she could think of Bill's way, even reverting to some second year spells. They came in a barrage, anything she could think of was sent his way, only to be blocked easily by the more experienced wizard. She was so angry that it was making her fight sloppy.

And Bill was reaping the benefits, targeting her with well aimed curses and hexes, intended to disarm her with pain and shock, rather than do any real damage. It wouldn't do for their story if he _actually_ injured her, even if she'd been brainwashed. They still thought that she was one of them, and it wouldn't do to have him hurt her with friendly fire.

The worst part was that it was actually working. To her horror, Bill was gaining the upper hand. Hermione cursed herself for rushing into the situation, not giving it enough thought. She had absolutely no safety net here, so if she fell she was actually going to fall. She couldn't imagine what Bill and Sirius would do to her memories if they got a hold on her.

They'd twist things around until she hated Antonin once again. She didn't want to hate Antonin after she'd just found him. He was the only good thing in her life for the past few months. He was the only person who seemed to be looking out uniquely for her. He was the only one who cared about her - not that he'd said it, but he'd certainly shown it.

Focusing herself once more, Hermione stood, blocking the spell that Bill sent her way, before raising her wand, letting the rage build inside of her, knuckles white around the vinewood in her hand. Taking a deep breath, Hermione knew that this was her last chance. "Avada Keda-"

She was knocked flat on her arse, the spell flying across the room, leaving a black streak on the ceiling of the office. Hermione struggled with the ropes that had wrapped around her body, from where Bill had got her with his incarcerous.

Internally, she lamented that she hadn't been paying better attention to her opponent. Her heart pounded in her chest, annoyed that the time she was actually successful at casting the dark spell, her attempt had been thwarted by her own carelessness! Now, she'd lost her duel and was sure to be going back to Order control. Hermione hated that she was surely to have her memory forcibly altered.

Closing her eyes, a tear broke free, while she gave a silent apology to Antonin for getting herself in this situation in the first place. He'd told her that she was ready, and if she'd just listened to him she would have been okay.

Bill came around the desk to stand over her prone body, unable to hide the smile on his face. Of course, he would be so happy to have taken her down, Hermione thought bitterly. But then, with his guard down, he wasn't prepared for the door to his office to blasted off it's hinges. "Petrificus Totalis!" Antonin shouted, knocking the redhead falling on his back.

Antonin dropped to his knees, working to release Hermione from the ropes that bound her tightly. Hermione was unable to stop the tears that fell down her cheeks in joy that Antonin had come to save her. She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, realizing that she was shaking like a leaf. She'd come so close to a terrible outcome, but he'd come for her, come to help her.

He helped her stand up from the ground, but she could tell from the set of his jaw that he was anything but happy right now. Hermione instantly felt shame shoot through her body. Failure was one thing, but the knowledge that she'd _disappointed_ Antonin was even worse. "Do it now." He commanded, clearing a path to Bill's prone body.

Hermione raised her wand, but she was shaking too badly, too full of emotion to produce the words. She shook her head, looking at him sadly. "I-I can't do it." She whispered, seeing the pleading in Bill's eyes, letting her wand drop to her side.

"We don't have much time before the goblins get here." He said, seriously, his tone razor sharp. "Do it now, or I will." Antonin promised, before raising his own wand.

She stared down at Bill, letting all of her feelings coalesce. She'd performed the curse successfully not just minutes ago, and who knew what could have happened to her if Antonin hasn't come in at that moment? Bill didn't want what was best for her. Bill wanted to hurt her. Feeling particularly baleful, she raised her wand and executed the zig-zag motion. "Avada Kedavra."

She was surprised by how _calm_ her voice sounded in that instance. It seemed almost too easy to watch the bolt of green light leave her wand and hit Bill square in the chest. His eyes turned glassy, but he didn't look shocked, like Travers had. No, instead he wore that _insidious_ little smile that he'd had when he stood over her bound form, before Antonin had petrified her.

Hermione etched the memory of his face in her brain, wanting to remember this moment of vengeance for the rest of her life.

Then, Antonin was tugging on her arm, telling her that they needed to leave. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, ushering her out of the dead man's office. Before she could leave, she accio'd the locket, wanting to be sure to give it back to the man who'd given her so much.

* * *

In hindsight, Hermione wasn't even sure how they'd gotten back to Antonin's flat from Gringotts. She'd been so focused on the fact that she'd just killed one her best friend's older brothers to appreciate the purposeful way that Antonin had guided them out of Gringotts, taking care not to look suspicious, and then apparate them away once they were on the street.

When they arrived back in his flat, Hermione quickly became aware that Antonin was angry. Very, very angry.

He ripped off his cloak, letting it fall haphazardly over the couch. "How could you do that?" He bellowed, making Hermione flinch from his tone. "I told you you weren't ready and you just go off trying to take down a curse breaker in the middle of Gringotts!" He crossed the room to stand in front of her in just two strides. His hand grabbed her by the jaw, surprisingly gently, and forced her to look up at him. "Don't you know what could have happened to you?"

In that moment, Hermione could see the way that his dark eyes softened, she could see the concern etched in his face, and she realized that he _cared_ for her. That he was _worried_ for her. That she might have died would have been a negative to him. She felt her heart lurch in surprise that his feelings for her would run so deep.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, letting her face fall to his chest. Before she realized it, she was sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Antonin, I should have listened." She lamented, his rapid heartbeat slowly calming her shaking nerves. "I can't imagine what would have happened...they'd have made me forget how wonderful you are." He wrenched himself back from her, shock very obviously written on his face, while all of his rage quickly melted away. Whatever he was expecting her to say, it hadn't been that he was _wonderful_. But it was true, Hermione thought. How was it that a Death Eater was the person she suddenly cared for more than anyone else?

She raised herself up on her tiptoes, before pressing a rather chaste kiss against his lips, eager to feel connected to him again. His brows furrowed and his jaw set in a hard line while he worked out what he was feeling. It was odd to see him looking quite so _confused._ Had she pushed him too far with her affection?

But then he was making eye contact again, his eyes achingly open. "I was so worried about you." He said, pushing his fingers into her wild hair, holding her in place so that she couldn't look away from him for even an instant. "I am so glad that you are okay." He said, seriously. His heart was beating wildly, and this time it wasn't from fear or addrenaline, but rather from nervousness.

Hermione felt her pulse surge, so glad to have him return the sentiment that she'd been holding onto. When he pressed his lips against her so tightly, she let herself relax against him, molding her body against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, using the leverage to deepen the kiss. Not shy, Antonin took complete control of the kiss, using his tongue to explore her, tasting every bit of her that she had to offer.

He broke his lips away from hers for air, but he didn't stop for long, peppering her neck with kisses, while she panted, feeling like she was racing. She was dizzy, but knew that if she kept her hold on Antonin, she would be anchored. She delved her hands into his wavy hair, sighing. She pulled him back up to her lips, before pulling him back towards the small bedroom. It was crazy, but all she wanted...all she needed, right now, was Antonin inside her, grounding her.

It took a moment, but he seemed to understand what she wanted, after a bit of tugging. She could feel his cock, hard and pressed against her belly, and she felt a thrill run through her to know that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Their progress was stopped when Antonin pressed her against the wall next to his bedroom door.

He moved his hands to rest on her arse, lifting her and encouraging her to wrap her legs around his trim waist. Hermione groaned at the closeness it provided, and began rocking her hips into his, anything to feel more friction. She felt like she couldn't slow down. If she stopped to think, she was sure she would talk herself out of taking something that she _wanted_ for a change.

Her tongue continued to spar with Antonin's, while her nimble fingers began tugging on the buttons of his shirt, wanting to get him bare. He'd been flaunting his body to her for days now, wearing just a towel back from the shower, and she wanted to get her hands on him now. She pushed back the fabric, greedy fingers smoothing over bare skin.

Breaking the kiss, Hermione panted into his ear. "Please Antonin, the bed." She wanted to see him properly, kiss every bit of exposed skin, and take him inside of her. He got the message, lifting her effortlessly from the wall before shoving the door open with his hip. The door creaked from the force, and Hermione was surprised that he didn't knock it off the hinges.

She couldn't linger on the thought for too long though, as he was dropping her down to the bed in a soft thump, surprising her. Staring up at him, she watched as he wrestled his way out of his half buttoned shirt, barely suppressing a giggle when he finally got it off, only to have it die on her lips when he joined her on the bed. It seemed unfair that a _Death_ _Eater_ should look quite so good as he did, with dark hair covering his chest. But then, she supposed he was no longer _just_ a Death Eater to her.

His cold fingers shocked her as they found their way under her shirt, trailing up her sides and leaving gooseflesh in their wake. Hermione sat up to help him pull it over her head. Her heart stopped for a moment when he focused on the purple scar again, and she prayed to Merlin that he wouldn't change his mind, and leave her in needy agony. He used one finger to trace the line up from her hip, only to stop when he met the plain cotton of her bra.

To distract him, she reached behind her and removed the bra, hiding her breasts from his eyes. His fingers stopped in their tracks and his eyes immediately darted to her pink tipped breasts, nipples taut with arousal. He cautiously reached out to cup her breast, running his thumb over the peaks, making Hermione moan in surprise. It felt better than anything to have him touching her.

The noise seemed to snap him back into action and he bent over to kiss her again, his knee separating her thighs. Cradled as he was by her legs, she could feel his hardness pressed tightly against her, and Hermione couldn't stop from rocking her hips against him again. Trailing her fingers down her sides, she made quick work of his trousers, encouraging him to push them off, before completing the same action with her jeans.

Hermione began to realize that she was naked in bed with Antonin _bloody_ Dolohov, in just her knickers. Before she could begin to second guess her decision, though, he pulled her back into bliss, his mouth placed over hard nipple, his tongue laving back and forth. It felt better than she could have imagined, and she wasn't even embarrassed by the little mewling noises she was making.

Antonin kissed down her curse scar, following the path to where it disappeared beneath her underwear. His fingers hesitated for a moment, before hooking them under the fabric and pulling them down her legs. Her eyes slipped closed when she felt his hot mouth moving lower...lower...until his lips were wrapped around the hard bead at the top of her sex.

Light seemed to burst from behind her eyes at the sensation, and she could feel orgasm building in the tips of her toes. He entered her nearly obscene wetness - which she would be thoroughly embarrassed by in the morning - with two fingers, groaning against her. Her fingers wove into his hair, desperate to keep him close to her. As he thrust into her again and again, Hermione could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, until she finally snapped, her body going taut like a bow.

When she floated back down into her body, wrapped in lazy warmth, Antonin had pushed off his own underwear and had his hand wrapped around his cock, spreading some of her wetness there. She felt another bolt of pleasure run through her, insistent throbbing in her core. He crawled over her prone body, his intense eyes meeting hers, while his head bumped against her entrance.

He almost looked _nervous_ to hope. "Hermione, are you sure?" He asked cautiously. It was surprisingly sweet to her, making her heart ache in response. To show him how sure she was, she wrapped her lean legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. His answering groan made her feel powerful and sexy. "I see." He told her, with a crooked smile.

With a sure thrust of his hips, he'd filled her completely, before stilling. His face was tight with concentration, but Hermione didn't mind the time to adjust to his size. After a few beats, though, he was pulling out of her before entering her again, in a pleasant push and pull motion. She was still so sensitive from her earlier orgasm, but she wanted more, and he seemed to insist on taking it slow.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she kissed up his neck, stopping when she reached his ear. "More." She whined, needing more speed, more strength, to get her closer to the edge. He groaned into her shoulder, but complied, thrusting deeply. Hermione couldn't stop a little mewling noise when he hit a particular spot inside of her.

She began to thrust back against him, eager to pull another groan from him. He pressed his lips against hers, pouring all kinds of unnamed _emotion_ into the kiss, while their tongues slid against one another, joined a second way. Hermione clenched her eyes shut, feeling herself careen over the edge into orgasm, her walls fluttering against his. He continued his movements, pushing her through it, drawing it out and making her feel as though she were floating. Just when she was starting to get too sensitive, near enough to beg him to stop and give her a moment, he followed after her, uncoordinated thrusts into her welcoming cleft, a deep rumbling moan coming from his chest.

He laid on top of her, enveloping her in his warmth, and Hermione was pleased to feel his rapid heartbeat against her chest. Once he regained himself, he propped himself up on his elbows, and looked down at her, eyebrows furrowed in what appeared to be confusion and gratitude. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, tip of her nose, before placing a teasing kiss on her lips.

Neither of them said anything when he rolled off of her, wrapping his arms around her body, and pulling her to spoon against him. Normally, Hermione would have found being held this way restrictive and uncomfortable, but with Antonin, she just felt cherished.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! I am so glad that you liked the last chapter...obviously I was worried, what with Hermione going pretty dark! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates, and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter eight, and be on the lookout for chapter nine soon!

* * *

Antonin didn't know how long he'd been awake, but he'd been staring at Hermione's sleeping face the whole time. She looked so gorgeous when she was completely relaxed, when he could study all of her freckles and fantasize about her full lower lip. It would be so easy for him to catch it between his teeth. What he wouldn't give to wake her up by lapping at her cunt again. Her little mewls and moans from the night before were still haunting his mind.

But, he knew that he could do no such thing. The night before was certain to be a one time thing, no matter how much he would have liked a repeat. She'd been drunk and giddy and _conflicted_ because she'd killed someone. Once she killed Sirius Black, he was positive that _whatever_ misguided feelings she had for him would flicker out.

Not to mention that he hadn't told her a huge secret he'd been keeping, one that would certainly destroy whatever faith she'd placed in him. The fact that he told the Dark Lord that he would bring her to him once they finished.

Even if it wasn't true, he had kept it from her, because he'd wanted her so much. He didn't know what he would do to protect her from the Dark Lord's wrath, but he knew that he couldn't let this little kitten slip into the wrong hands. He rubbed a hand across his face and wondered when his life had gotten so complicated. He wondered when she began to mean _so damn much_ to him. Was it when she transformed his flat or when he met her at Bottle  & Glass? Or was it all those years back in the Department of Mysteries?

In the end, he supposed it didn't matter _when_ it had happened, just that it _had_ , and now he was utterly, hopelessly confused about what to do. He'd never been one to do the right thing, not since his Hogwarts days and he hated the off kilter feeling he had in this uncharted territory. It made him want to hate her, but then, he'd look back at her sleeping face…

He should have killed her when he had the chance.

But it was too late now that she meant more to him than anyone ever had.

Before he could think on it any more, he noticed the fluttering of her eyelashes, indicating that Hermione was about to wake up. He braced himself for the coming onslaught of horror and despair that she'd slept with him, despite her agreement that she was sure the night before. She blinked a few times, before turning on her side, her brown eyes locked onto his face.

A lazy smile formed on her face, to his absolute shock, and a faint blush formed on her cheeks when she looked him up and down, still bare except for the sheets. "Good morning." She whispered, her voice husky and low.

It sent a thrill up his spine, before he focused, thinking something must be wrong. "Good morning, Hermione. Do you...remember everything...that happened yesterday?"

Her face was so very easy to read as each and every emotion ran across her face. She broke eye contact with him, looking at some mole or freckle on his side. "Yes, I...I disappointed you." She said, before trapping her lower lip between her teeth, as he'd imagined doing minutes before. "But now...Bill is gone."

Antonin couldn't stop the humorless laugh that bubbled up in his throat. How could she _possibly_ think he was talking about the way that she'd run off the day before? "I was worried for you, kitten." He said, his voice a soft caress. "But, you were successful. So, I suppose I can't fault you too much. I meant after..."

She glanced up at him shyly from beneath her sooty lashes, giving him a look so innocent it made him ache. "I'm sorry if...I understand if you are upset." He said, giving voice to his fears. Of course, she would be upset. She was just a girl, and he was a mean old Death Eater.

His statement pulled a gasp from her. "I'm not upset, Antonin. I really rather...well, I enjoyed having sex with you. I want to do it again." She said, propping herself up with her arm, exposing her bare breasts to his view.

He rolled over onto his back to stare at the cracking ceiling, running a hand over his face again. How could she not be upset? How could she be so trusting that she would forgive him for his past transgressions against her and the ones that she didn't even know about. "You won't when you know what I've done."

Hermione, for whatever reason always believed the best in people, shook her head side to side, wild hair wiping around her. "I don't care _what_ you've done, Antonin. I trust you." She said, her voice so honest.

"I've told the Dark Lord that I would bring you to him once the blood traitors have been taken care of." He blurted out, needing to confess his sins, hating himself. When had he stopped caring that Hermione was a mudblood? When had he seen her for the woman she was beneath her exterior shell?

She was quiet for a moment, and he was positive that it was only a matter of time before she stormed out of the flat, hating that she'd fucked a man who promised to bring her to her greatest enemy. Instead, she pressed herself against her, so that he _had_ to look her in the eye. "You won't do that." She said simply.

Antonin could practically _feel_ the trust that she was putting in him and he couldn't lie to her in that moment. "No, I won't." He agreed. "I will keep you safe." When did his allegiance slip from the Dark Lord to this slip of a girl? Seeing her bright smile, he knew that it didn't matter _when_ , just that it _had_.

After his admission, Hermione crawled on top of him, her legs on either side of him, her wet cunt pressed against his straining length. Lifting her hips, she placed him at her entrance before sinking down, taking each inch of him inside of her. She kept the pace slow and Antonin couldn't help but feel as though he were being swept away in her.

Her rocking movements teased him closer and closer to the release that he wanted so desperately, but he didn't force her to speed up, just let her take her pleasure from him. And when he felt her walls flutter around him in orgasm, he followed soon after, her name wrenched from his lips, breathless.

* * *

Sometime later, when Antonin has regained his legs, he and Hermione sat over a meager breakfast of dry toast, neither speaking as the facts of the previous day continue to sink in. Hermione had crossed many points of no return in her actions previously, but this was truly the last frontier. She had killed one of her comrades, and a Weasley no less, despite the fact that she was once close with a Weasley.

He tried to shove down the bit of excitement when she forcefully told him that she was not Ron's girlfriend, thinking of how petty he must seem. He was a grown man for fuck's sake, and he would not be jealous of an insignificant boy.

On the whole, he thought that Hermione was really dealing with the fact that she'd killed someone quite well. He thought that she would have moral reservations or hang ups, but instead she'd become some modern Hammurabi, justifying her actions as a life for a life. Only, she still had another life to take to get vengeance.

"We need to take care of Black." Antonin said, feeling a bit of dread settle into his body. "He will learn about Weasley first, and understand what it means, before the rest of your Order can figure it out. They might not ever figure out what happened exactly, especially if Black and Weasley didn't come clean."

"They aren't _my_ Order." Hermione said darkly. "Even if they hadn't betrayed me, they wouldn't let us join unless we were of age. Even though they were counting on Harry to take down Vol-You-Know-Who." She said with a blush, perhaps remembering how she'd gotten them caught just days before.

Antonin smirked at her, wondering when his kitten had become quite so feisty. Had the Order known about it and squandered her potential power, forcing her in libraries to do work? Of course, he enjoyed reading as much as he assumed Hermione did, but there were other things to life than books. "Sorry, not your Order. The fact still remains. We need to take care of Black now."

"Before he tries to slink away." Hermione said, her face drawn in concentration. "We need to draw him out...today, before he has a chance to think on other options." Antonin thought that she was probably the best to gauge Black's behavior, if she'd stayed in the same house as him.

"Yes, perhaps if you send a letter to Potter, ask him to meet you somewhere, Black would follow?" Antonin offered, thinking that it would be good for her to see her old friend again. Her stricken look told him otherwise.

"No, I told you before, I won't be used as a tool against Harry. I will never work for the Dark Lord." She said, her voice deadly serious. "Besides, they told Harry that you'd brainwashed me. I don't think that even Harry would be reckless enough to come meet me without telling the rest of the Order. No, my issue resides solely with Sirius now. And perhaps Dumbledore too, as he ordered it, though, I doubt _I_ could ever touch him."

Antonin could practically feel her hurt. He didn't want her to think that he was just using her to get to Potter, especially not after the night and morning that they'd shared together. He thought on her forlorn words about Dumbledore and wished that he could present the old man's head to her. "I didn't mean...if you won't write Potter, then what do you wish to do?"

Hermione stared out of the tiny window for a moment, and Antonin could clearly see her mind whirring, thinking through all possibilities, while she nibbled on her lower lip. "They'd placed a ward on my parents' house, that alerted them when I showed up."

"Its a fairly simple ward." Antonin said, nodding, slowing understanding where she was getting to. He'd performed the same ward numerous times before he'd gone to Azkban during the first ward. "Do you think they would have placed it again?"

"Why not? It worked for them once before." Hermione lamented, thinking about the first time she'd come face to face with her parents' murderers. How much had changed since then… "Only, I am fairly certain it would have been Bill to cast it. Now that he's dead, will it still work?" Hermione asked, unsure of how magic disippated after the caster was gone.

Antonin ran his hands over his chin, running through the scratchiness of his beard. "It will have begun dissolving once he was killed. But, it was a strong ward, it will likely take months to stop working."

"Then it's settled? We will go back to my house?" Hermione asked, feeling her blood pressure begin to rise, thinking of what she intended to do next. Kill Sirius...kill Harry's godfather. Bellatrix Lestrange had tried it previously, resulting in the death of Remus Lupin, and Harry had been inconsolable. She could only imagine what he'd think of her now.

"Yes." Antonin said thoughtfully. "Prepare for battle, kitten. It will be a duel to the death."

* * *

When they apparated back to her parents' home, Hermione was surprised to see that it had been a crime scene. Scraps of yellow tape still hung up in some spots, and her parents' bodies were gone, their curdled blood cleaned up, though she could still see them as if they lay dead on the floor. She felt a horrid daughter for a moment, realizing that she hadn't given a second thought to her parents' remains while she'd been living with Antonin. What kind of daughter did that make her?

She wondered if the police were looking for her, the daughter of the Grangers that surely the neighbors would have told them about. What would they do when they could find no muggle records for her after age eleven? What would happen to her parents business and house? She couldn't exactly show up and introduce herself - she was sure that they would be their prime suspect.

Realizing that this was a goodbye to her life as Hermione Granger, daughter to two muggle dentists, she felt tears well up in her eyes. Closing them tightly, she didn't want Antonin to see how _weak_ she was.

He walked up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Head up, Hermione. Black could be here at any minute, and you must stay alert." Hermione nodded, knowing that he was right, after all. It was a positive that she knew her house better than anyone, so they had somewhat of a home field advantage.

"I'll just make a quick look around." Hermione told him, wanting to make sure that she was able to get the jump on Sirius. Even though she'd like to draw out his death, let him feel every bit of hurt that she did, she knew that it was going to be much safer to get it over with as quickly as possible. As it was, she was counting on him not sharing with the rest of the Order showing up. She didn't know what would happen if more than just Sirius showed up.

Antonin paused, but eventually nodded, walking over to a wall, in order to keep his back covered. Hermione was impressed, realizing that in the spot he stood, he could easily keep an eye on all three entrances to the room. There was no way that Sirius could sneak up on him.

Wand drawn, Hermione began to creep through her house, cautiously. The dining room was empty - never again to be enjoyed over a Sunday evening roast, Hermione thought miserably to herself. She walked down the narrow hallway, past the little bathroom, stopping when she made it to the kitchen. She winced to see some of her mother's cooking utensils still out on the counter.

Again, she felt traitorous tears creep into her eyes. Was she ever going to be able to let go of this hurt? Of this pain? She let her wand arm drop, while she walked over to the counter, letting her hands trace over the recipe card that was still out, in her grandmother's own handwriting. Her heart ached at the knowledge that she could never go back now.

Hermione was so enthralled that she didn't hear the crack of apparition into her back garden, or the quiet opening of the door into the kitchen. By the time that she felt the spell hit her, she realized that she'd been silenced, to her dismay. Turning to face her attacker, she wasn't able to respond in time before he hit her with an expelliarmus, catching her wand handily.

Sirius couldn't help a proud smirk on his face, and Hermione felt anger well up inside of her at how distracted she'd been. Before she could do anything to stop Sirius, he'd grabbed her by the arm, wrapping it behind her body, his wand pressed against her neck. He put her in front of his body and slowly began to push her forward. "Walk." He hissed in her ear.

"Hermione?" Antonin's voice asked quietly, when they stepped on a particularily creaky floorboard. She instantly felt fear run through her body. She couldn't let Antonin get hurt, not when she'd been so supremely stupid, and gotten caught so easily by Sirius.

She stopped walking, hoping to give Antonin more time to be suspicious, to get his guard up, but Sirius just jabbed the wand into her neck harder. Knowing that she needed to do _something, anything_ to warn Antonin about the approaching danger, Hermione lurched foward. Surprised by her sudden movement, Sirius let go of her.

Hermione pressed herself against the armoire that help their fine plates and silverware, sending the delicate glass shattering, making noise enough to let Antonin know that something was not right.

Sirius hissed, grabbing her by the arm again, his grip so tight it was nearly bruising. "You bitch." He hissed into her ear, cuasing Hermione to gasp at his anger. If she needed any additional proof that this was no longer the Sirius that she knew, this was it. He shoved her forward into the room, causing her to stumble and fall onto the floor of the living room.

Hermione was impressed to see that Antonin didn't cast a hex at her first, as she would have done, but rather stepped into fully into the room, his eyes trained on Sirius's form. Hermione scrambled to her feet before they could begin dueling each other, but she felt incredibly helpless knowing that she had no wand to protect herself with.

Antonin shot off a spell first, but, Sirius was quick to return fire, blocking Antonin's spells and sending back a volley of dark spells. Hermione's belly coiled in annoyance at the hypocrisy that she should always be told that the Order were the good guys, that they didn't use dark magic, and yet, here Sirius was using some of the darkest magic Hermione had witness.

Luckily, it seemed that Antonin was just as well versed in dark spells, as she would have expected. She was completely in awe of him as he sent spell after spell Sirius's way, hitting him now and then with a grazing curse, leaving Sirius bloodied. Antonin's jaw was firmly set, but so far he didn't have a hair out of place. He looked furious and like nothing would break his concentration.

Perhaps sensing that he wasn't getting anywhere with Antonin, Sirius sent a spell Hermione's way, striking her, and causing her to gasp in pain. Or, she would have gasped if she could have made any sort of noise.

If Sirius was planning to distract Antonin by hurting him, causing him to focus his concentration on helping her, he had miscalculated. Instead, it seemed to make Antonin spitting mad instead, refocusing him in his quest to hurt Sirius as much as possible. He struck him with three curses right after the other and Hermione could see that Sirius was reeling.

Antonin raised his wand above his head before striking down, roaring out a spell that sent Sirius flying backwards. "BOMBARDA!" Sirius was sent into the wall, causing the plaster to crumble all around him. Hermione was pleased to see that he didn't stand up again, and appeared to be passed out.

Her protector turned to look at her, and saw her trying to talk, but unable to speak. Casting a finite her way, he finally handed her his wand. "Finish him off."

Hermione stood over Sirius's crumpled form, just as he was beginning to wake up from the blow to his body. His grey eyes were fluttering open and Hermione looked down at him dispassionately. It was easier, this time, for her to raise her wand. She knew that she could do it, with just the flick of her wand. "Avada Kedavra." She said, watching as the brilliant green light left her wand and hit Sirius, leaving him dead.

She was surprised at how little she felt this time. The first time she'd been too in shock to appreciate what she'd done. The second time, she'd been thrilled that she'd been successful. This time, it felt practiced and easy, like a comforting blanket. She didn't feel as though her soul had been ripped irreperably, just that she was strong and powerful and that she'd finally _taken_ her revenge.

They couldn't hurt her any more.

Realizing that she'd used Antonin's wand, she stared at the long holly wand in her hand. It was unusual. Usually if she used someone else's wand, it felt awkward, difficult, unyielding. But Antonin's wand felt completely natural in her hand.

Crouching down next to Sirius's body, she begun digging through his pockets to try and locate her own wand. When she found it, it was resting in his back pocket, broken to bits from when his body hit the wall. Hermione felt her breath leave her in a rush.

Her _wand_ …

She didn't feel as useless as she thought she would without it, but she couldn't deny that she felt incomplete. Turning, she showed Antonin the pieces. "My wand." She said, grimmacing, before returning the wand to him.

He winced as well, taking the bits of wood into his hand. "I'm sorry, Hermione." He said, sounding sincere. "But we must go now. I'm sorry, we can't stay." Hermione understood and took his hand, allowing him to apparate her into the unknown.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! You have no idea how much it means to me that so many of you not only gave this story a chance, but that you are enjoying it too! I know it's super dark! I can't believe there is only one chapter left after this. Since so many of you are dying to know what's going on with the Order, I've decided to add a little bit to this chapter and the next one to give you a hint of their perspective. I hope you enjoy it. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post story updates, sneak peeks and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter nine and be on the lookout for chapter ten soon!

* * *

They left her house through the front door, walking down the muggle street. Hermione wondered what the muggle police would think when they showed back up and found a dead man in a destroyed house. Perhaps a robbery gone wrong? Would the aurors have to be called in to help with it? How devastated would Harry be when he realized that he'd lost Sirius too?

It was odd, that she wasn't even a bit bothered by the fact that she'd just taken the closest thing that Harry had to family from him. How could she be bothered when she was only trying to make things _right_ , to make herself _whole?_ It was just that she still didn't feel whole, even though she'd accomplished what she wanted.

She couldn't deny that she felt _powerful_ and joy at having accomplished what she set out to do, but it still hadn't eased the hurt and pain that she felt at having her parents murdered, at being doubted by the Order, when she'd given her whole life to them. Now, she didn't know what to do.

Antonin wrapped his arm around her, keeping a quick pace down the road, before leaning over, his voice whispering in her ear. "Do you know a secluded place we can apparate away?" He asked.

Hermione thought briefly, before nodding, leading the way to a quiet park that was always deserted this time of the year. It didn't take her long to realize that they couldn't leave via magical means from her house in case the aurors looked for magical traces. Even though she was pretty sure that Voldemort's ministry knew what she was doing, she didn't want anything to trace back to her.

After confirming that there were no muggles waiting for them in the park, Antonin apparated them away, only to return back to his flat. Once she was safely sitting on his couch, her mind started whirling with the what's next possibilities.

She'd done what she'd set out to accomplish. Antonin had done what he'd promised as well, teaching her to cast the Killing Curse, and he'd helped her get vengence on the two people directly responsible for her parents' death. She wished she could do something about Dumbledore, too, but she knew that it just wasn't going to possible. Still, the fact remained. They were no longer beholden to each other. There was no reason for them to keep together any longer, even after the night they'd spent together before.

Would Antonin try to make her leave? He'd never suggested that he wanted anything more with her. Hell, he'd never suggested he wanted anything more with life, judging by the sad state of his flat and how upset he'd been when she'd spruced it up a bit. She knew that he'd promised that he wouldn't hand her over to Voldemort, but...he had no reason to keep that promise.

Now, if he did make her leave, what would she do? She had no muggle relatives that could help her or take her in, and she had no other allies in the wizarding world now that she'd burned the bridge with the Order of the Phoenix. She'd have to leave England, that was certain, but where would she go? Perhaps America or Australia, like she was going to send her parents to. She had enough gold to last her awhile, at least long enough to get on her feet, but she'd have to be careful. She wondered how long she would feel so alone in the world.

She wasn't sure how long she'd sat there, her mind running a mile a minute, trying to work out her place in the world and her future in it. She was startled from her thinking by Antonin coming to sit next to her on the small couch. She almost immediately felt a sense of comfort wash over her, with his presence. Merlin, she hoped he didn't send her away. Hermione felt closer to him than practically anyone else she could remember.

He gave her a soft smile, before running his hand over his face. "I am proud of you, kitten. You didn't even hesitate." He hesitated for a moment, before lifting his hand to push some of her wild hair behind her ear, exposing her to his dark eyes.

Hermione smiled back, feeling that she hadn't handled herself nearly as well as she should have. She'd been distracted, and then caught unawares by Sirius. If Antonin wasn't such a good dueler, it was likely that they both could have been killed. "I'm so sorry, Antonin." She whispered, her eyes dropping to her hands in her lap. "I was not paying attention...and then I let him get my wand. He would have killed you." She could feel the tears forming in her eyes already.

This time, Antonin did not hesitate to pull Hermione into his arms, her head pressed against his chest, and his fingers running through her hair. She breathed in deeply, his spicy scent filling her nostrils, his warmth rolling off him, making her feel like... _home_. She closed her eyes and promised herself that she would _never_ forget him.

"It's happened to everyone, Hermione." He said, his voice gruff and rumbling in his chest. "You did brilliantly. You've got control of it now." He praised her. It was the truth, though, he thought to himself. It took some people years to master the Killing Curse with any kind of skill. He was sure that she'd be able to produce it at will now, should she desire. If he had anything to say about it, she would never be put in that kind of situation again.

Before she could say anything else, a pounding at the door startled them both out of their comfortable place on the couch. Antonin pressed a finger to his lips, indicating that Hermione should keep quiet. He stood and crossed the room with the grace of a big cat, before looking through the peep hole to see just who could be bothering him at this time.

He was unimpressed to see Malfoy, Greyback and Rosier waiting for him on the otherside of the door. He watched as Greyback pounded on the door a second time, before snarling. "Come out Dolohov, we've come to collect your mudblood!" He said, glee in his voice.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Yes, the aurors have just announced the deaths of a William Weasley and Sirius Black." Antonin wondered if Malfoy was glad to have another blood traitor removed from his son's family tree. "The Dark Lord gave you time, but now you must hand the girl over."

He turned to look at Hermione. She was balled up on the couch, with wild eyes, clearly distraught over the turn of events. He promised her that he was going to protect her from falling into Voldemort's clutches, but how could he do that if this trio of goons took her away from him? He cocked his head, trying to indicate her to get into the bedroom. She was frozen in place, but sprang into action once Greyback pounded on the door a third time.

"Come on, Dolohov. I can _smell you_. I know that you are in there." The brute called through the door, clearly eager to get inside. Antonin wondered what kind of reward that Greyback would be getting if he delivered Hermione to the Dark Lord.

Rosier, the quiet one, finally got irritated. "For fuck's sake, lets just blast the door open and be done with it." He pulled out a wand, and Antonin barely had a minute to get out of the way of the door before it was sent flying across the room, smashing into the couch.

Antonin raised his wand, sending stunners and nastier curses at the trio, who didn't expect their Death Eater brother to be an adversary. All the while, he worked his way backwards towards the bedroom that Hermione was waiting in. He needed to get her out of her, so that he could keep the promise that he'd made.

He couldn't stop the grin when he hit Rosier with that cutting spell that Hermione had used on Greyback and the werewolf paled to see the spell come shooting past him, nearly hitting him as well. Rosier crumbled to the ground, and Antonin assumed that he'd be dead unless he got medical attention as quickly as possible.

The other two were distracted by their fallen comrade, giving him just enough time to get back into the bedroom. He slammed the door shut, before he started rapidly throwing up wards. He could feel Hermione's frantic hands on his back, probably tring to figure out what the hell was going on, but he couldn't stop his rapid wand movement until he got themselves completely barricaded in the room.

He knew that all of his wards wouldn't keep the other wizards out of the room forever, but it should allow him to take enough time to get Hermione safe - what he should have been planning for this whole time. Finally, when he thought that he should have at least a good ten minutes, he allowed himself to turn around and face the small witch in the room with him.

He immediately wrapped her in his arms again, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, before pulling back so that he could look in her face. Oh, he knew that she was going to be upset, but there was nothing else he could do. He'd lived his life, but her's was just beginning. It was the right thing to do. Another flick of his wand had all of her belongings collected in a neat pile, and then he asked her for her small beaded bag.

Hermione handed the bag over, confused. "What's going on Antonin?" Her voice was tight with emotion and he knew that she was just moments away from hysteria.

"You need to leave here." He said, feeling his own voice waiver. It was what was right for Hermione, he tried to remind himself again and again, unless he faltered. "They aren't going to stop unless they bring you to the Dark Lord. Even know they are peeling back my wards. It isn't safe for your here kitten."

She looked at him still not grasping what he was getting at. But then, he shoved the beaded bag, full of all her things, and his _own_ wand into her hands, and she began to understand what was happening. Tears began in earnest and she shook her head back and forth, unable to speak.

"Please, kitten, it's the only way." He said, cursing her for making this even harder than it already was. He didn't want to send her away, to leave her to fend for herself, but he _had to_. He owed it to her, to do right by her now.

"No." She said, forcefully. "I won't leave you here."

"I have my mark, Hermione." Antonin said, knowing that it was his anchor. "If I go with you, we will be easily tracked. You would never have any peace or you would fall into the Dark Lord's clutches. Please, you need to go now." He felt two more of his wards go and he knew that time was running out.

"Then I'll stay here with you, and fight." She was whining now and she wrapped her arms around his trim waist, unwilling to let him go. It wasn't fair. "Please Antonin, I love you, and I'm not going to leave you here to die to protect me. Just let me side along you." She begged, willing to agree to _anything_ so long as she could stay with him.

Her declaration of love surprised even her, but she couldn't say that it was anything but the truth. She did _love_ him, more than anything in that moment, and she couldn't bare the thought of being parted from him.

His arms came to wrap around her again, holding her against him so tightly. He could feel her sobs as she shook in his arms, and feel her tears where they wet his shirt. "Oh, kitten, I love you too. So much. I never had a home before I found you, and now I want more than just a sad, little flat."

Antonin privately wondered when he'd fallen for the stubborn witch, but he couldn't pin point an exact time. It didn't matter, though, because their love wouldn't keep them alive. Because he loved Hermione, he knew that only one thing would keep her safe. "If you leave, I will come find you, when everything has settled down, and we can be together, I promise. I will give you whatever you want."

Hermione ripped herself away from him, shaking her head again. He could barely understand her because she was sobbing so hard. "No, you are lying to me. You are only saying that so that I will leave right now."

The tall man could admit that that was at least partially true. But, if he could, he really would leave and find her. "No, I am much more valuable to the Dark Lord alive than dead. I will be punished, yes, but he will allow me to live, and as soon as I am able, I will come find you." His words were a rush as he felt only a few of the wards that were left beginning to slip.

She was wary, but eventually she did nod her head, yes. Yes, she would go, but only with the promise of his lips on hers once again. "Okay." She finally said softly.

"Listen to me very carefully kitten." He said, his voice low, lest the others hear what he was saying. "Apparate some place safe. Then go to Bottle & Glass - use a glamour if you have to. Wait there for Thorfinn Rowle, as long as it takes. Tell him that Antonin Dolohov wants to collect his favor and that he should take you to Omsk. He will bring you to my grandmother." He placed a hand on either cheek, pulling her in for one _last_ passionate kiss. She was crying again when he pulled away. "Okay, where are you supposed to go?"

"Bottle & Glass." Hermione said, clearly breaking inside. "And then Omsk. In Russia."

Antonin nodded, clearly pleased that she was going to do as she was instructed. He took a deep breath. "Good, now go! The wards won't last much longer."

She nodded, crying freely, and gripped the wand, closing her eyes tightly and leaving behind the man who had changed her life, wondering if he'd be able to keep his promise.

* * *

Dumbledore surveyed the ruin that was the Grangers' modest home and he wondered how it had all gone so wrong. Walls and glass were smashed, with no signs of the culprits, and there was Sirius Black laying broken and dead in the middle of it. His plan had failed, and now, Hermione Granger was lost to them for good. The girl had been so focused on the well being of her parents all year, asking about them constantly, that he thought if they really were perceived to be killed by Death Eaters, she would put her all into bringing down Tom and his followers.

He thought that Bill and Sirius would have had enough sense to handle the Granger girl's parents discretely, certainly not allowing their only daughter to witness such an act, but he'd been wrong. They both were always a bit too self confident. Sirius didn't tell him that they'd been caught until Bill Weasley was found dead the day before, murdered in his own office. Then the Black heir had spilled everything to him, including that they'd let Hermione, sweet impressionable Hermione, to fall into the hands of notorious Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov.

Sirius promised that he would handle it, that he would get Hermione back and modify her memories, take away any hint that the Order had done something wrong, but he'd failed a second time. Clearly, Dumbledore had put his faith into the wrong people.

He sighed, his many years and many crimes weighing on him heavily. This would take a delicate hand to fix. It was time that he came clean to Harry and Ron about where their friend had gone off to. Sirius had suggested that she had a secret relationship with Dolohov, and as much as it would hurt the two boys, it might make Hermione's betrayal of the Order easier to swallow. The Weasleys would want justice for their son, and Harry would fight even fiercer to get his friend back. Antonin Dolohov was a reasonable scapegoat.

Waving his wand, he conjured his patronus. It was time for the Order of the Phoenix to meet.

* * *

Hermione had apparated not far from Diagon Alley, ducking down a hidden alleyway, before perfoming her glamour that she'd used when she was in Gringott's. She pulled out a tiny hand mirror from her bag and checked, making sure that her identity would be hidden enough.

Wrapping a cloak tightly around her body, despite it still being summer, Hermione walked purposefully towards Knockturn Alley, wiping her face of tears, trying to get a handle on her emotions. She felt truly awful to have left Antonin alone in that situation, her heart clenching at the realization that he had sacrificed himself for her. He had been a true friend to her and she'd repaid him by abandoning him without a wand.

His reasons for staying behind seemed a bit hollow now that she was away from the fighting. Still, she couldn't just go back now, and instead sought refuge in Bottle & Glass. The pub was just as dingy as she remembered. Ordering one drink, she slunk over to the corner booth that would best allow her to watch the room for Thorfinn Rowle. All the while, she thought about how Antonin found her here all those weeks ago.

She wasn't really sure how long it took for Rowle to show up. It could have been minutes, or hours, or even days, really, but she knew it was him the moment he strode in, calling for his usual from the bar keep. Downing the rest of her drink, she walked over towards the boisterous man. "Thorfinn Rowle?" She questioned, hating the tremble in her usually confident voice.

The blond turned and looked at her, an appreciate glance at her body that had Hermione's skin crawling. He bit his lower lip in a way that she was sure many witches swooned over. His arms came to rest on her hips, pulling her into his embrace. "Whose asking?"

Hermione tried to get away, but found that he was a bit too strong for her. "Um...Dolohov sent me. He wants to collect a favor." She said, watching in a bit of amusement as he was in a rush to let her go once he heard Antonin's name. "Perhaps we could talk someplace more private."

The brawny man nodded, before slamming the drink that the bar tender provided him. He offered her an arm that Hermione hesitated to take. Thinking that she didn't really have anyone else to trust but him, she took it, allowing him to side along apparate her to his ancestral home...or at least, what appeared to be his ancestral home.

When they arrived, she canceled the glamour, watching as recognition fell over his face. "Fuck, Granger?" He asked, perhaps unbelieving that it was her standing in his study. "What happened with Dolohov.

Unbidden, the whole story came tumbling out of her mouth, about how Antonin had told her to leave him behind and his insistence that Thorfinn would help her get out of the country. He was surprisingly kind to her, throughout the story, and agreed to help her, after sorting a few things out first. He left her alone in his library.

When he returned, it was well after midnight, but he came carrying an old hammer, which Hermione gathered was a portkey. "Come on, we don't have much time until this activates. Do you have everything you need?"

Hermione nodded solemnly before standing and grabbing the other end of the portkey. "Where will this take us?" She asked, wondering how she'd come to trust _Thorfinn Rowle_ of all people. If Antonin said she could trust him, though, she knew that she could.

"To the Russian Ministry in Moscow." He said, rubbing a hand over his face as though he was tired. "And then we will floo along to Omsk and I will take you to Antonin's grandmother."

"Thank you." She said quietly, knowing that she really owed a lot of people for agreeing to help her flee the country. She was sure this would be seen as treason in Voldemort's eyes.

"I owe Antonin, so it's fine." He told her with seriousness. She wondered just what it was that he'd been owed for, as he was really putting themself on the line here.

"I can obliviate you at the end if you'd like." Hermione said, thinking about all the practice that she'd done for her parents. He shook his head though, and before she could press for more, the portkey activated.

International portkey travel was one of the more unpleasant things she'd experienced, but she was so glad to be safe that she couldn't find it in herself to complain. She followed Thorfinn's purposeful strides through the lobby to the floos, before following him through the green flame to Omsk.

She was glad that she had him with her, as she was certain she never would have found her way to Antonin's grandmother on her own. She lived in a large house on the outskirts of town, and Hermione wondered how it came to be. Was this their ancestral estate? Still she couldn't deny that she was shaking in her shoes when Thorfinn knocked on the door.

There was some movement inside, but before long it was opened by an old woman, who was definitely nearing 100. Thorfinn greeted her with a kiss on each cheek and some brief words of greeting in Russian, making Hermione irritated that she didn't understand. But then the woman was ushering her inside. "Hermione this is Anya, Antonin's grandmother. She is going to take care you while Antonin is...busy. You will be safe here." Rowle's deep voice promised her sternly, before he bid her goodbye, the door closing behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you all so much for your favorites, reviews and follows! And thank you all so much for going on this crazy dark Order journey with me! This is the last chapter, but I hope that you will read what I put out in the future. I have a lot of good ideas bubbling up and I am writing on a new one which I am sure will be a wild ride. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter ten!

* * *

Hermione felt completely awkward once she was left alone with Anya Dolohov. With her stern look and lack of fluent English, it was difficult for Hermione to feel at ease with the woman. Still, she followed when the older woman ushered her up the staircase, that was surely grand at one time, but now was well worn and dusty.

Anya walked her all the way down the hall, turning into a very dusty room, which made Hermione sneeze. Still, a few well placed spells had the room brightly lit and freshly cleaned. Anya barely gave her any time to look around before she was ushering her into the little en suite. Hot water filled the tub and Antonin's grandmother began to pull at Hermione's clothes, before instructing her to get into the steaming water.

Although she didn't particularly want to strip in front of the woman, she couldn't very well argue with her and did as she was told, before stepping into the water. It was hot, not scalding, but Hermione could feel her muscles relax as she sank into the warmth. Anya called for a house elf to take her dirty clothes, and Hermione was glad that she had any extra clothes in her small beaded bag.

It seemed that this was not meant to be a bath for relaxing, and Anya began to try and pull Hermione for a tub, handing the girl a towel. She quickly dried and dressed in her pajamas, performing a spell to plait her hair. Antonin's grandmother then ushered her back into the bedroom, putting Hermione directly to bed.

Seeing Hermione's frightened yes, a moment of tenderness passes over the old woman. Pulling up the covers, she tucked Hermione into bed, an act that Hermione had not experienced for many years. The woman bid her goodnight - or at least, Hermione _thought_ that she did - before stopping to stare at the wand on the nightstand.

 _Antonin's wand._

Then, she left Hermione alone with her thoughts.

Sleep did not come easy in an unfamiliar bed, despite the late hour and how exhausted Hermione _felt_. She didn't think that she'd ever been so tired, and yet, she couldn't stop her mind from spinning.

Tears, kept at bay during the day by the excitement of being smuggled out the country, could no longer be held back when she thought about Antonin. Looking around the room, she assumed that she _was_ in Antonin's room. Had he grown up here? How awful she felt to know that he might never return her.

And it was all her fault.

Bitterly, she cried into the soft pillow, hating herself for leaving Antonin alone to fend for himself without a wand. He'd made her lots of pretty promises that she knew he couldn't keep even in the heat of the moment. She should have stayed, fought back against Greyback and Malfoy. If they went down, at least they would have gone down _together_.

And now...well, now she knew that was probably the last time she'd ever see Antonin.

* * *

The next morning was even more awkward than the night before when she'd let Anya mother her. She'd changed into some new clothes, scowling at herself in the mirror when she saw the absolute _state_ of her hair. Then, she'd come down the stairs, timid as a mouse looking for another living human.

She found Anya sitting eating breakfast with a young man, maybe only a few years older than herself. He looked so much like Antonin, only with warm green eyes, and none of the dangerous aura surrounding him. When he noticed Hermione, he stood quickly and ushered her to the table.

"Hermo-ninny?" He asked, making her heart clench when she thought of Viktor. Tears sprung to her eyes again, but she blinked them away and nodded her head sullenly. "My name Dmitri. Babushka said you were friend of Dyadya - sorry, Uncle Antonin?" He stumbled over the words, and his cheeks turned slightly pink at the word _friend_.

"Yes." She said quietly, taking her place at the table, despite not being very hungry. Hermione was embarrassed, wondering just what they thought she was to Antonin. Surely, they must realize that their relationship had surpassed friendship.

"What happened?" Dmitri asked her. Hermione wondered if he was fond of his uncle, even though Antonin was unintentionally the reason that he was an orphan.

Still, she didn't know what to tell the two other Dolohovs. "There was a fight and...Antonin sent me away to protect me." Hermione said, stumbling on the words. "He said he would come find me, when he could." All three sets of eyes rested on the wand that Hermione had set next to her plate, all wondering how well he could fair without his wand.

Unable to stand the silence, Hermione began picking at the porridge that appeared in front of her. She was still a jumble of emotions and feelings, so she found that she had almost no appetite. She'd killed three people in the past week and she'd lost the man she loved…

She was startled by Anya speaking in rapid fire Russian to her great grandson. Dmitri smiled and turned to Hermione. "Babushka wants to know if you ballerina? Says you look like...tiny bird. And eat like one too." She couldn't stop from herself from smiling, for the first time in a long time.

Shaking her head, Hermione corrected him. "No, I am not. I took classes when I was a child, but didn't have the talent for it." She had _loved_ the class, but there got to be a point where you realized that you were not keeping up with the rest of the class. She'd cried when her mother told her they ought to find a different activity for her to join.

Dmitri relayed the information to his great-grandmother, Hermione noting a hint of disappointment on the older woman's face. "Babushka was prima ballerina when she was a young woman. Wizards would come from all over Europe to watch her dance. But then, it fell out of fashion with purebloods."

Hermione bit her lip, before nodding. She wondered if they knew that she was a muggleborn. She wasn't trying to hide it but she also didn't want to broadcast it unless they decided to throw her out. Then she really would have nowhere to go.

* * *

Harry had been so conflicted when he heard what had happened to Hermione. She'd gone missing from Grimmauld Place one day and they hadn't heard from her since that day. He wasn't blind that she'd been acting oddly for a while now. Perhaps, he'd failed her by not asking her what was going on, but he'd been so focused with Draco Malfoy that he hadn't bothered. And now...

Dumbledore told them that Hermione had been _seduced_ by Antonin Dolohov and tricked into killing Sirius and Bill. It seemed so preposterous, especially because Dolohov had nearly killed Hermione just two years before and he couldn't imagine Hermione killing _anyone_. But it didn't change the fact that Bill and Sirius were dead and Hermione was to blame for their deaths.

He'd never seen Ron so angry before, Harry knowing that his best friend had always held a torch for the bushy-haired brunette. To think that she'd not only given herself to a Death Eater, but that she'd killed his brother as well, had sent him over the edge into a rage which could not be quelled. Harry was angry that Sirius was dead, too, but he just couldn't seem to come to terms with the fact that Hermione was responsible.

He had to push Hermione from his mind. Sure, she was gone, but Voldemort wasn't.

* * *

She'd been unpacking when she found the broken little pocket watch in her beaded bag. She handled it carefully, knowing that Bill hadn't removed the curses. It wasn't on purpose, but she threw all of her emotions about Antonin into fixing up the watch. The little timepiece was a small connection that she still had to him. She wondered if he _would_ have been upset to learn that she'd borrowed it. They hadn't had enough time together for her to ask him.

Dmitri had showed her the way to the library, and after seeing what a magnificent place it was, Hermione rarely left. She'd hole up in there all day, first carefully breaking the curses she'd placed on the watch. It was a bit more difficult because they'd had some time to really get hold of the object.

Then, she'd lovingly repaired the broken glass, before taking apart the little gears and mechanisms inside of it, trying to get it to run again. She needed to make this work again, for Antonin. It was silly, she knew. It wasn't as though fixing his watch was going to bring him back to her, but...she couldn't help but try. It brought her comfort.

She also spent her time attempting to learn Russian. She'd been there for a while now, and it was only right that she try to assimilate to her hosts. Having a really good memory, picking up the vocabulary wasn't difficult, though she stumbled over many of the pronunciations and the sentence structure.

Dmitri was patient with her, giving her small corrections to her pronunciation and cadence. She was grateful for his assistance, knowing that she probably wouldn't have been able to pick it up so quickly if she didn't have such a great teacher.

Anya was trying to learn more English as well, though Hermione found that she was usually too embarrassed to attempt to say the words, though she was usually correct. Anya was the first of the two Dolohovs to learn how to correctly pronounce her name, which was a surprise. Dmitri's English was steadily improving as he spoke more with Hermione, but he still sometimes stumbled over her name. She didn't mind, though, seeing as it was just nice to have someone, _anyone_ really to talk to.

He pressed her for more information on her relationship with Antonin, though she never opened up on that topic. Hermione knew that he thought it was a bit unhealthy the amount of time that she spent working on that watch, but Hermione couldn't give it up. Besides the wand, it was the only thing that she had left of Antonin.

She didn't know what she expected, but when it was finally fixed and working, she didn't feel any closure. She just felt empty.

* * *

Hermione _liked_ Dmitri. She just didn't like him the way that he liked her. He'd been invaluable to her in the month that she'd been staying with Antonin's grandmother, spending as much time with her as he could stand. He'd helped her so much with her Russian and he even made her start laughing every now and again.

In some ways, it would have been easy to fall into his arms. He _was_ quite handsome, tall and broad, with dark wavy hair. He was quick to laugh and his green eyes reflected that. In some ways, he really was like a younger version of Antonin, unhindered by everything that life had thrown at the older man.

But she didn't want to _replace_ Antonin.

Really, Hermione wasn't sure that she would ever want to move on from Antonin, and she was unwilling to even try. Her heart and mind were still consumed with thoughts of the man she'd left in England, and all of the things they hadn't been able to experience together. She wanted to stroll along the river that parted Omsk's city center, holding hands. She wanted to discuss spell creation with him. She wanted to wake up with him spooning her, one hand cupping her breast and the other delving into her center. She didn't know if she would be able to move on from all the _possibilities_.

That didn't mean that Dmitri didn't try at every moment to get her to forget.

It had started with small touches on her arm, while they were studying in the library. He'd stepped it up by trying to hold her hand one night before a fire while Anya played a Tchaikovsky record. She'd been too shocked to try and pull away.

He hadn't tried to kiss her until she'd been there for two weeks. He'd taking her horseback riding across their extensive property and Hermione found herself wondering how the wizarding world in Russia had dealt with the muggle communists taking over land. She'd turned to see him looking at her with _such_ love sick eyes that she felt her heart stutter in despair. " _Ptitska."_ He'd called her - little bird - with desire clearly on his face, before he bent over to try and catch her lips.

Hermione had turned away and he'd caught her on the edge of her jaw instead. When he pulled away, she'd looked up at him from beneath shy lashes, hoping that he wouldn't be too angry. But, he had been angry, annoyance clear on his face, before he began muttering in Russian. "What is so great about uncle? He may never come back."

She'd shuddered at his words, and wondered if he knew what Antonin had done for him. The way that Antonin had protected him, at the expense of his relationship with Dmitri's mother. She _hated_ that he didn't know what a great man Antonin was. And she didn't need to be reminded that Antonin might not return to her. Her mind already did that quite enough.

Unable to answer his question, Dmitri had grabbed the reins of his horse, giving her a _disgusted_ look, before turning and heading back towards the house, leaving Hermione alone with her regrets.

* * *

After she'd been staying with Anya and Dmitri for five months, Hermione had begun to help out around the estate more and more. There had been fields to harvest in the fall, even though their yield was meager.

In addition, Anya, who was getting rather up there in years, needed help with the upkeep of the house. Hermione had been glad to learn that they did not have a house elf, though Dmitri was always suggesting that they buy one, it meant that most of the household cleaning fell to the older woman.

By winter, her Russian was good enough that she was able to go into town to buy the groceries for their motley group. She'd certainly caused a bit of a stir the first time she'd gone into the wizarding center, causing her to have a bit of a panic. Was it possible that Voldemort or the Order had reach all the way here? To her relief, it seemed as if no one _recognized_ her as being the Hermione Granger. She was just as anonymous there as she'd been before her first year at Hogwarts.

She would spend at least part of her days cleaning around the large estate house. As the years went by, and Anya got older, it was clear that more and more rooms had fallen into disarray. It was good for Hermione, she decided, to work through the rooms methodically, as it kept her busy mind at least a little bit preoccupied.

Even though it had been months, she still was consumed with thoughts of England and the War and Harry. What was happening? Was Harry able to track down the horcruxes that were keeping Voldemort alive? She often wondered if she should have given Antonin that little tidbit. Still, she wasn't even sure if he would _want_ Voldemort gone. It was times like these that she lamented she hadn't been able to learn more about Antonin.

She wondered what the fall out must have been like in the Order with Sirius and Bill both killed. Did Harry ever wonder if the story they'd fed him about her being under Dolohov's control was true? It was pointless to worry about such things, though, as Hermione was sure that Harry would never have forgiven her for killing Sirius if he knew she'd done it of her own volition.

Mostly, she just hated waiting for news. How long would it take the wizarding world in Russia to learn the outcome of the dark wizard known as Voldemort? Only when he came knocking at their door, ready to invade the proud country? She always knew that Voldemort's determination would _not_ stop at Britain's borders.

So, she waited, day after day, reading the Russian newspapers, hoping for a hint of what was going on at home.

* * *

By the time that June rolled around, Hermione had begun to accept that Antonin was gone, and she needed to move on with her new life here in Russia. Anya and Dmitri had been so gracious in letting her stay with them, though they likely enjoyed having extra help around the house. Anya was mostly quiet, but one night, after too much vodka, she did ask Hermione to show off her ballet positions from childhood, before dissolving into laughter, telling her that she was beyond hope.

Dmitri...she was sure that something could happened between her and Dmitri, if only he'd give her time to heal. He never really let up on flirting with her - his _ptitska_ \- but he hadn't tried to kiss her again, except for a time around Christmas. She'd turned away again, and she knew that it hurt him. Maybe they would be together, but now wasn't the right time.

During the spring months, Hermione spent most of her time in their fields, helping to plant the fields. It was difficult work, but she embraced anything that kept her mind busy. It was on a particularily sunny day that her world finally turned. She had turned back to the house and saw someone walking towards her.

Initially, she thought it was Dmitri, but then she remembered that he had gone into the city that day. Her eyes widened when she realized that it was Antonin, come to get her finally after all these months. She ran towards him, calling his name, and jumped into his arms when she got close enough.

He fell backwards from the force of her tiny body colliding with his, laughing when she peppered his face with kisses. "I missed you, kitten." He said running his fingers through her hair, in what was without a doubt the most emotive he'd ever been.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Hermione pressed her lips against his, moaning into the feel of them together again, fitting against one another perfectly. His beard was a bit more significant now, but he felt like _home_ to her. When she pulled away, Hermione had tears streaming down her face, her mind a jumble of emotions. "How can you just come back now? I thought you were _dead_."

Smiling at her from his place on the ground, Antonin pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. "That would be a question best answered inside." He stood from the ground, picking her up with him, before leading her inside, to where his grandmother waited.

Anya had poured each of them a ration of vodka, while Antonin spoke briefly with her in stilted Russian. His grandmother gave him a wry smile, before shaking her head. "Hermione speaks better Russian than you do now."

Antonin turned to look at her in surprise. "What, I had to learn to communicate if I was going to live here?" Hermione explained herself, thinking it would have been difficult _not_ to pick up the language after being nearly immersed for months.

Then he told her everything that happened since she last saw him. "Malfoy and Greyback left me for dead, but Thorfinn came back for me. It was a month before all of my injuries were fully healed." He admitted, making Hermione cry. She knew that she should have just stayed with him, but instead, she'd left him alone to face the wrath of two sadistic Death Eaters.

When she pressed him about the war, he simply raised the sleeve of his left arm, revealing...just scarred flesh. The Dark Mark was no more, faded into obscurity. "Harry?" She'd asked while holding his hand, fingers tracing over his forearm.

"Potter won. Before I came here, I tried to tell him about what had happened with Black and Weasley, even gave him pensive memories." Seeing Hermione's hopeful face, he had to shake his head. "I'm sorry, Hermione. You could try to write, but...I think it's best if you keep plans to stay out of England."

"Are you going back to England?" She asked him, temporarily afraid that he was going to leave her alone after she only _just_ got him back.

He laughed. "No, I just barely got out. You do remember that I am a Death Eater that escaped from Azkaban, right?" It was true that he was, but Hermione knew that there wasn't anyone that she would trust _more_ than she trusted him. She couldn't have picked at better person to run into at Bottle  & Glass nearly a year ago.

"Well, I only plan on going wherever you go." Hermione said cautiously, looking at him through sooty lashes. They had never defined what their relationship was, but she didn't plan on ever letting him go again.

He looked shocked, which made her slightly upset. "Are you sure, Hermione? I know...what you said before I left, but I won't make you honor the promises I made. It's been a long time, perhaps you've changed your mind."

She shook her head back and forth, wild hair moving around her face. "No, Antonin, I love you. I never _stopped_ loving you, even when I thought you were dead, and you promised that we could build a home _together_. I still want that."

He caught her off guard by pressing his lips against hers, before capturing her lower lip between his. It made her shiver at all of the promises that kiss held. He finally broke it, grinning at her breathless expression. "Then I will give it to you."

There were so many things that they still had to work out, but Hermione couldn't find it in her heart to care about it at the moment. She had Antonin back and so that was all that mattered. She felt all her anger and guilt and pain slip through her fingers, the tumultuous storm that rage inside her dissipating. For the first time, she was _excited_ at the possibilities of her future, without fighting, without war, just with love.


End file.
